


As Brothers We Will Stand

by Melodious329



Category: The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage Homeless AU:  How Jensen joins the Losers and Cougar gets revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Brothers We Will Stand

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: implied child abuse, violence, language
> 
> AN: I have changed the age differences of the characters. 
> 
> AN2: I don't speak Italian or Spanish, and all translations are from babelfish
> 
> AN3: This may become a verse

Clay glances behind him briefly before he enters the newly abandoned apartment building that he and Pooch and Roque are currently squatting in. He’s not too worried that anyone will see him though. They’re good at moving in before other homeless people realize a building is available for squatting, and moving out as soon as it’s figured out. 

But he’s barely got the door closed behind him when he hears screaming, screaming like someone’s being murdered. 

Clay’s got his back to the wall before he thinks about it, simply defensive instincts, but he has to move inside, has to make sure his friends are still ok…

He’s not prepared to see Pooch wrestling with what seems to be a little kid, who’s fighting like a wildcat to escape Pooch’s grasp. All Clay can see is a mop of blonde hair and pale limbs as the kid bites and kicks and screams. 

Roque edges in from another room so that the kid’s surrounded when Pooch finally drops him onto one of the mattresses they’ve scavenged. The kid knows it too. As soon as he hits the mattress, he stops screaming. In the sudden quiet, the kid pants loudly while staying on his knees. The kid’s bright blue eyes take in his surroundings warily from behind glasses and he adjusts his backpack over his sweatshirt. 

Pooch shakes out his hand where the kid probably bit him, but then he reaches into his pocket and throws down a small bag of M&M’s. The kid falls on it immediately, no room for suspicion in the face of his hunger. 

Clay sighs. “Pooch, he’s not a dog,” he starts. 

“Yeah, Pooch,” the kid pipes up, “I’m not a dog. Don’t you have any food that’s not candy?”

Demanding little shit, Clay thinks but it doesn’t stop him from digging in his jacket for the convenience store sandwich he’d just gotten for himself. 

Roque growls from across the room, but it doesn’t stop Clay from tossing the plastic package to the kid. And Clay knows why the other teen is upset. Feeding a kid is like feeding a stray cat, you can’t get rid of it afterward. And they don’t take in kids. 

But Clay can’t just kick the kid out. And the kid’s hungry. He’ll figure the rest out later.

See, Clay’s seventeen and he’s been on the streets awhile, long enough that he’s seen all kinds of homeless people from drug addicts and mental illnesses to stupid teenagers and families that just couldn’t make ends meet. But basically there are two types of people on the streets. People fucked up from being on the streets, and people on the streets because they’re fucked up. 

Take Clay’s Dad. His father was a combat veteran who lost whatever hold he had on his PTSD after Clay’s mom died of cancer. But Clay was smart. He tried to take care of his Dad as long as he could and when that didn’t work, he kept himself semi-housed and fed and away from child services and the police. He took care of himself. 

And this kid belongs to the latter group, same as his Dad. By the look of the kid’s clothes, right size and not too dirty, and the kid’s teeth, bright white and taken care of, the kid hasn’t been on the streets very long. But that doesn’t mean that the kid isn’t already fucked up. Besides the fact that the kid is too calm after his screaming fit, there are bruises on the kid’s jaw like someone grabbed his face too tight. This kid’s not naive. 

“What, you just gonna stare all day?” the kid’s smart mouth goes off again. His fingers have gotten restless without the sandwich and have started playing with the container and absentmindedly rapping a tune against the mattress. And he keeps talking, “You should try blinking. Did you know that babies blink less often than everybody else, like…”

Clay sighs again and drops onto the other mattress in the room. “What’s your name, kid?” he asks, interrupting the kid’s nervous spiel. 

“I’m not a kid,” the kid says with a comically large frown on his face. “And it’s Jake.”

“What’s your last name?” Clay asks. Jake is too much like they’re responsible for a child. 

“Jensen.”

“Ok, Jensen, I’m Clay. This is Roque, and you’ve met Pooch,” Clay introduces them. 

“Seriously?” Jensen asks, looking completely unimpressed. “And you, Pooch? Did your parents hate you tha…?”

Roque takes a sudden menacing step forward and growls out, “Shut up.”

The reaction is immediate, seemingly ingrained. Jensen shuts his mouth and his eyes go to the floor in front of him, suddenly compliant and small. But he doesn’t  
flinch. Roque huffs in response, then turns around and walks away stamping his feet at the situation.

Clay glares briefly at Roque while he waits for the kid to recover. In the meantime, Pooch comes around and sits on the other end of the mattress with Jensen. 

“And how old are you?” Clay asks, when the kid’s eyes start flicking around the floor again. 

“Sixteen,” Jensen says immediately with a jutted jaw and staring at Clay’s face. 

Pooch cackles like a hyena at that and Clay has to fight to keep a straight, impassive face. 

Jensen looks annoyed but says, “Ten?” It’s a question this time. 

Clay just keeps staring. 

Jensen’s pale skin flushes now and looks at his lap. “Nine?”

“Eight?” Jensen tries again.

Clay sighs then and looks away. If the kid is younger than that he frankly doesn’t want to know. Clay gets up again. 

Jensen shoots up from the mattress as well. “Hey, where’re you goin’? Can I come?”

Clay’s stunned into silence at the request and at the desperation in the kid’s voice when he says it. He figured the kid wouldn’t want to lose his newly found shelter. 

But Pooch stands then diffusing Jensen’s worry that he’s being left behind. “Yeah, kid, you wanna go to the park? I’ve got a baseball.”

Clay lets out a sigh of relief, loving Pooch for volunteering to keep the kid busy. He knows that Pooch feels sorry for the kid, it’s impossible not to. Dennis the Menace was a cute kid too. 

But Jensen’s reaction isn’t what he was expecting. The kid now looks suspicious, like he’s not sure what his answer should be. “Ball?” the kid asks, like he’s never heard of it before. “With me? I…don’t know.”

But Pooch is the best of them and stands up like his heart isn’t breaking for the little kid. Clay still can’t think of anything to say and Pooch says, “Well, c’mon then, let’s go.” 

Convinced perhaps by the older teen’s confidence, the kid scrambles to catch up with Pooch like he’s afraid of being left alone. Clay just shakes his head before following the other two out and deliberately avoids Roque’s gaze. 

Jensen loves Pooch immediately. Two years younger than Clay, Pooch is just a big kid anyway. Pooch throws the ball gently, but Jensen still misses all of them at first, sprinting after the ball rolling away like he’s ashamed. He’s actually decently coordinated, though, and catches on after awhile. And needing less concentration on the game, Jensen just natters away like he’s been saving up words for his short life. 

But like all kids, soon Jensen is bored with the game. He misses a catch when he’s not paying attention and then starts playing in the dirt instead of running after the ball. Jensen wipes his nose on the sleeve of his now much dirtier sweatshirt, when he spies some kinda of rock and jumps up. Clay is walking over when the kid yells out, excited about whatever he’s found. But when Jensen realizes that it’s Clay next to him, Jensen’s excitement suddenly dims. Instead, he’s shy and embarrassed as Clay comes over to look at what the kid is holding, like he fully expects Clay to tell him off. 

“It’s mica,” Jensen starts, uncertainly.

“Really?” Clay responds as if he’s interested. “What’s that?” 

Asking is all it takes for Jensen to smile big and bright and start talking nonstop about rocks and big long science names that Clay doesn’t even try to follow. But Jensen doesn’t seem to care if Clay actually listens or not. And then Jensen is dropping the rock into his backpack that he’s still carrying around on his back. 

But when Clay reaches out a hand to the kid, trying to ruffle the kid’s fine blonde hair, Jensen still ducks away from the touch. It’s almost subtle and Jensen doesn’t seem to miss a beat because of it. But Clay recognizes that awareness of other people getting too close. Still, Jensen talks and skips his way back to the building they’re squatting in. 

Roque didn’t go with them to the park, but he’s back at the building with more food when they come back. Roque glares when Jensen doesn’t stop talking even while eating, but even that only quiets the flow of words for a second. The kid probably couldn’t stop talking now if he tried. Jensen seems to actually get more nervous the longer they’re together. 

It’s not a problem until bedtime. But the kid doesn’t want to sleep. 

“No, I’m not tired yet,” Jensen says, sounding reasonable. “I’ll just go outside…”

“The hell you will,” Roque growls. 

Jensen goes stock still in fear, his fidgeting suddenly stopping just like before. But his mouth is pursed like he wants to argue. 

“It’s too dangerous for a kid to be out downtown in the middle of the night,” Clay says calmly. “Just c’mere. We can share this mattress.”

Clay moves to one side of the mattress, leaving room for the kid on the edge. The others go ahead and lie down in the dark but Clay never feels the kid get in beside him. 

Turning over onto his back, Clay looks up, trying to make out the shadow of the kid and his backpack still standing stock still in the darkness. Jensen looks suddenly brittle, like the next word out of Clay’s mouth will break him into a million pieces. Clay gets it. The kid is not going to sleep on the same mattress with him, not even if Roque threatens the kid.

Besides, he knows what’s bothering Jensen. Roque may seem like he has no sympathy for Jensen, but Clay remembers when Roque was in the same position, when that scar over his eye was fresh. So Clay doesn’t speak, he simply grabs the mattress and pulls it out along, into another room that might have been a pantry or something. It’s got a door and it locks and that’s all that matters. 

“Can you sleep in here?” Clay asks. 

“Yeah,” Jensen whispers. 

The kid keeps his eyes down at the floor, relief warring with suspicion in his voice, and shame in his body language. For a moment, Clay wants to drop to his knees and simply hug the life out of the kid. But he knows the kid is too fragile now for even the gentlest touch. 

Clay feels a little hollow as he closes the door behind him. It’s not enough. It wasn’t then with Roque and it’s not now. Tired, he looks around the darkened room. Without his mattress, he’s looking at a night on the floor, but it’s not the worst place he’s ever slept. 

Subtly, Roque shifts to one side of his mattress. Clay feels one corner of his lip turn up in a smirk as he lies down beside his friend to sleep.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Clay wakes up the next morning to the sound of the door opening, and the patter of small feet on the wooden floor. He sits up slowly, rubbing a hand through his still short hair as he blinks open his eyes at Jensen sneaking across the floor. 

He opens his mouth to ask where Jensen is going now, when Clay hears other footsteps outside the door, the sharp sounds of fancy expensive shoes. 

“Shhh,” Clay motions at Jensen to be quiet for a moment. 

But the sound of keys confirms Clay’s fears that their empty apartment building isn’t so empty anymore. He jumps up quickly, grabbing things and stuffing them in backpacks even as he’s kicking and whispering at the other two teens. Pooch and Roque know the drill. They blink open blurry eyes but then scurry to grab their blankets and canteens. They’re headed out the back door when Clay grabs at Jensen’s arm to bring the kid with them. 

He’s not expecting the kid to flinch violently back from his outstretched hand, falling onto the floor and against the nearby cabinet with a loud crack. But Clay doesn’t have time to worry about how scared the kid is. They have to get out now. 

Clay grabs the kid despite attempts to get away, tucking the small body underneath his arm like a football. Then he’s darting out the back door after his friends. 

The kid struggles against his hold immediately, but Clay manages to carry Jensen until they get a few feet from the building. Then he loses his grip, dropping Jensen onto the kid’s knees on the sidewalk. 

“I can walk,” the kid whines as he stands up. But Clay can see the fear written all over him in tensed muscles and increased distance. 

Clay doesn’t spare the time to explain why his actions were necessary, knowing it would be wasting his breath. He simply gestures at the kid to keep up with the two teenagers in front of them. 

“C’mon, we gotta go,” Clay says.

They’re walking fast, trying to put distance between them and the building, when he starts to notice it. Everyone is looking at him, which is strange because most people look the other way when confronted with the homeless. Women in particular are even starting to point at them, until finally Clay realizes that it’s the kid that is attracting everyone’s attention. They’re all looking at the kid in concern, and looking at Clay with disdain. 

And then one woman takes out her cell phone, staring at them all the while. Clay doesn’t think, just immediately turns down a small alley, gesturing for Jensen to follow since he’s too afraid to touch. 

Roque catches his eyes as they finally slow down a couple of blocks away, concern shared between them about the attention. Roque’s first instinct is to protect himself and Clay, but sometimes the paranoia is warranted. 

It’s different for the rest of them, being teenagers. Not every person on the street looks at them and wonders where their parents are and if they need help. But Clay is starting to realize how difficult it will be to have Jensen with them.

And they’re basically out of food as well. Patting his pockets, Clay realizes that he has a small packet of M&M’s. He tosses it at the kid who’s keeping a bit more distance from Clay and never sees it coming. Small hands fumble it. 

Roque huffs a laugh. “We’re feeding kids instead of us now?” Roque asks, sarcastically. 

“Hey, I’m growing like 2.5 inches a year still. You’re probably finished already,” Jensen enlightens them with the candy already in his mouth. “Did you know babies gain an ounce a day and…”

“Do I look like I care?” Roque queries back. “Shut him up,” Roque shouts at Clay, drawing more attention to them. 

Clay ignores the both of them. Right now they just need to find somewhere to spend the night. They don’t have a ton of choices. They have to stay out of gang territory because of Pooch. Well, most gangs would run them off anyway, but Pooch has a history with one gang. He’d gotten mixed up in one before and then couldn’t get out. Pooch left home when the gang threatened his family.

And they can’t go some of their last resorts because of the kid. Normally they might spend a night in the emergency waiting room just to be out of the cold, or sneak into the conference room at a downtown hotel or something. But the kid is too conspicuous. 

They go under the overpass, but there are too many guys out of prison that stay there. Three fairly large teens together are fairly safe if they stay together, but Clay can’t stand the way that some of them look at Jensen as they pass by. 

And what’s worse is that Jensen notices the attention as well. Jensen suddenly tries to catch up with them and trips, landing on his knees. And Jensen reacts like he’s going to be left to the wolves, scrambling in the dirt to get back up as quickly as possible. Once he’s caught back up, he’s trying to get in between Clay and Roque to walk. 

They end up walking for a while, without any food, except the small packet of candy that Jensen ate. The kid is starting to fall behind which makes Clay even more nervous as they make it to the end of the bridge. 

Roque is glaring again at the kid slowing them down. “Where are we going?” Roque growls, angry like this is Clay’s fault. 

“We need some food,” Pooch changes the subject. 

“He can’t come with us to panhandle. He’ll bring too much attention,” Clay reasons. 

“Well, we can’t leave him. Even if we split up…” Pooch is interrupted by the kid.

“I can help! I’ll distract them! And you…” Jensen says excited. 

“No,” Clay says dismissively. 

He feels paranoid like he can the prickling of the eyes on the back of his neck. It’s winter and a cold, cloudy day and none of them have coats. He doesn’t want them sleeping out in the open tonight. 

“C’mon, we can’t stay here,” he says starting to walk again, heading back into downtown. 

They stop by the soup kitchen but the colder than normal weather ensures that there are too many homeless and not enough food. A few minutes later, it’s starting to rain and they pile into an apartment doorway just to hide from it. 

It’s a good place to sleep in the winter, but they haven’t had gotten any food. Frowning, Clay thinks it’s been a truly shitty day. 

Reading his mind again, Roque pipes up, “I’ll go, it’s not as if I’ll catch hypothermia.”

“Actually,” Jensen starts. “You can’t catch hypothermia at all because it’s not a germ, but you can become hypothermic in even 60 degree weather if it’s windy and  
raining which it is.”

Clay has to smile at the chagrined expression on Roque’s face as his friend takes a seat beside the door. “Goddamn know-it-all,” Roque mutters. 

But then Clay realizes that there’s nowhere in the small vestibule that Jensen can sleep away from them. There’s nothing for it though. 

With a sigh, Clay takes all the blankets but one and heads to the other side of the vestibule. “Let’s all just stay here. We’ll find food and someplace else tomorrow,” he says. 

Clay makes a little nest of blankets, Jensen’s blue eyes watching him with trepidation. 

“Here,” Clay says. “These’ll keep you warm and we’ll be on the other side. Can you sleep like this?” He doesn’t say what he really means, doesn’t ask if Jensen can sleep this close to them. 

“Sure, it’s fine,” Jensen says, but the kid isn’t a very good liar and Clay can see the refusal on his expressive face. 

Jensen waits for Clay to move away from the blankets before he obligingly settles into them. Even afterward though, the kid doesn’t look happy about it. He keeps his backpack and glasses on even, swaddling the blankets around himself until only a small nose and bespectacled blue eyes are showing. 

Taking it as a win, Clay tries to give the kid some hope, “Great, and tomorrow we’ll get you some food. Promise.”

Clay only left the rest of them one blanket and Roque grumbles from the other side of Pooch as the three of them have to huddle together. Though, Clay’s still wondering if they’re not warmer than Jensen is over there all by himself. For a while everything is quiet. Clay can’t tell if Jensen is actually going to sleep but since there hasn’t been any movement, he thinks so. Kid couldn’t stay still that long. 

And then Pooch shifts against him and starts to whisper. If it were Roque complaining, Clay probably wouldn’t listen. Roque always complains, but this is Pooch. Pooch is by far the most normal of them. 

“He deserves more than this,” Pooch starts. 

“Course he does,” Clay responds. The kid deserves food and shelter and a family. They all do, no matter what Roque may think of himself. But some people, namely them, don’t get it. 

“We can’t feed him. Hell, we can’t feed ourselves and look out for him at the same time,” Pooch continues. “We’ll never be able to watch him all the time,” Pooch explains. 

“There’s a Catholic orphanage, near my old neighborhood. I could…” Pooch trails off, but Clay knows how much the offer means. Pooch avoids his old neighborhood conscientiously, not wanting to see his family or run into the gang that might put him in danger. 

Pooch starts again. “He’d be taken care of.”

“I know,” Clay says, blowing out a big breath. That’s all the answer he’s prepared to give right then.

Roque on Pooch’s other side shifts noticeably but doesn’t say anything and they all settle down, considering the conversation over. But Clay can’t quite get to sleep. He simply stares at the unmoving bundle on the other wall, wondering what to do and second-guessing himself. The kid ran away for a reason and…

His thoughts are interrupted when the bundle starts to move and an arm pops out. Jensen then climbs out of the blankets, looking around in the dark. It’s not until the kid is trying to leave the apartment building that Clay sighs and gets up. He wonders if this will be a nightly thing. 

“Jensen,” he whispers harshly. “Get back here.”

Clay almost thinks it’s funny when Jensen jumps and whirls around in surprise. But Jensen doesn’t come back like he did the night before. 

“What’re you doing?” Clay whispers again when Jensen still doesn’t answer. 

Jensen kinda flinches at the harsh tone before he speaks. “I won’t go,” the kid starts belligerently, and Clay has no idea what he’s talking about. “I heard you! Talking about the orphanage and I won’t go. I can’t go back!”

Clay is so stunned by the outburst that he hesitates when Jensen takes off into the dark. 

“Fuck!” Clay curses. “Guys, come on!” he yells behind him before he takes off himself. 

He runs ahead but soon he has no idea where the kid might have gone. There are a dozen different streets and directions that he could have run off to and Clay can’t  
hear anyone in front of him anymore. He slows his steps as the other two teens catch up to him. 

“Fuck!” Clay curses again. “Ok, we need to split up…”

He’s interrupted by the distinct scream of a small boy, and Clay’s off and running towards the sound without another thought. 

Barely lit by a streetlight, Clay sees Jensen being dragged off by an older man out of the light. Clay jumps on the guy immediately, punching at the man’s face. Unfortunately, the guy’s bigger and stronger and bucks the teen off. The guy’s fist collides with Clay’s face while he’s already staggering and he’s knocked about a foot away, pain exploding in his cheekbone. 

Clay’s trying to get his feet back under him when Roque and Pooch get there. Seeing the cavalry spurs Clay to jump up, getting in another punch and a kick to this man who was going to do god knows what to a little boy. 

Panting, Clay gathers his wit to pull Roque away before any real damage can be done, Roque snarling the whole time. As much as Clay might like to see this guy really pay, they need to get out of the area before anyone comes looking. Clay is holding his cheek and pulling Roque along as he looks up to see Pooch carrying the obviously still distraught Jensen as they run back to their blankets. 

Clay’s adrenaline is singing through his veins and he can’t wait for Pooch to even put the kid down on the makeshift bed before he lets out his anger. 

“What did you think you were doing?!” Clay starts yelling, not caring if the apartment residents can hear him. “That’s why I told you not to go off by yourself! You  
could get hurt! We all could have been really hurt, Jensen!”

“Just let me go!” the kid screams back at him, tears running down his red cheeks. “You don’t have to take me to the orphanage! I won’t come back here anymore.”

“That’s not…” Clay trails off and swipes a hand over his face only to wince at the pull of a bruise forming. “I just got hit in the face trying to protect you from that creep.”

Finally Jensen looks up at him, but the kid looks surprised like the kid hadn’t been there during the fight, which he had. “You didn’t…I,” the kid seems flustered like he can’t say what he wants. “What do you want?”

“I just want to help,” Clay entreats. “We all do. You don’t have to go to the orphanage if you don’t want to,” Clay says ignoring the looks he knows Roque is giving him. “Just stay tomorrow. We’ll find some food and just…see what happens,” Clay finishes lamely. 

Jensen seems to be considering the options far more seriously than any little boy should, though still sniffling. Pooch shifts on the kid’s left side and Jensen flinches before he brings his eyes back to Clay. 

“Ok, tomorrow,” he says softly. 

Clay raises his eyes to heaven, thankful though he’s not entirely sure what for. Jensen sits across from him, wiping his face and nose on the blankets. And he knows he can’t even pat the kid on the back. The kid pulls the blankets back over himself like he’s trying to hide. 

“Just try to get some sleep,” Clay says softly, since no one from the apartments has come to oust them yet. 

Drained, Clay falls back against the wall on his butt. What are they doing to do now? What is the best place for this kid? He can’t go home. And Clay didn’t think before that an orphanage would call CPS, and then the kid’s family. And he’s apparently got one day to convince the kid not to just go off by himself. He can’t keep the kid a prisoner here, no more than the kid’s father.

But the kid is too young still to understand that the streets aren’t a safe haven. Even if Clay keeps the kid safe from guys like the one who tried to grab Jensen, there’s still not enough food, no real shelter, no real future. 

But despite the crash of adrenaline fading, Clay still can’t go to sleep. And he looks over to see Pooch and Roque don’t seem in a hurry to sleep either. They’re not really prepared to really take care of a kid and now it seems that they have no choice.

He’s slumping against the wall when he sees Jensen turn over in his blankets, the kid’s face now exposed to them. Jensen has his thumb in his mouth.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Unsurprisingly, Clay doesn’t get a lot of sleep after Jensen’s adventure so he’s up as soon as he sees the first rays of the sun. They can’t stay in the apartment building so he starts folding up their blankets and stuffing them into the backpacks. And his face still fucking hurts. 

As soon as Roque is stirring from the blankets, Clay is asking, “Where do you think we can go? The park?”

Going to the park is easier than spending another day looking for a building to squat in, that’s for sure. And there’s public bathrooms and water fountains and places to hide. But there’s a pretty big downside. The cops patrol the parks a lot because it’s such a good place for the homeless. They’ll still have to move frequently to stay one step ahead. Now that they have Jensen with them, they can’t afford to even be spotted by cops. And the park is exposed to the elements. 

It’s a statement on their friendship that Roque barely glares at him for the rude good morning, and merely grunts in assent. “Yeah, we’ll start there. I’ll get us a tent.”

“Two tents,” Clay says. 

“The three of us are going to share one?” Roque growls as he slings his backpack over his shoulders and steps outside. 

“Yep,” Clay says. Though to be honest, it makes him nervous to be in a tent where he can’t see if Jensen runs again. They’ll only use them when it rains, otherwise  
shrubbery should help keep them warm. He’ll have to stop by the shelter and see if he can get some more blankets and maybe some kids’ clothes. 

Clay looks back at Jensen to see blue eyes peering out at him from between the blankets, eyes blurry and sleepy and without glasses for once. Jensen’s looking at him and waiting for Clay to know what to do. “Come on,” Clay says, trying to sound casual though he doesn’t feel it. 

Jensen’s quiet for once as he crawls out of his blankets and puts his glasses and backpack on. He sleepily stumbles after them as they make their way to the park, pissing in the bushes on the way. None of them got much sleep last night, but Clay would guess hunger is making it worse. The kid is looking hollow-eyed already.  
He knows that he’ll have to leave the kid with Pooch so that he can get some food and he finds himself reluctant to leave the kid. He trusts Roque and Pooch as much as he trusts anyone in the world, but he just has this gnawing worry that only he can keep Jensen safe. 

They pick a spot deep in the park, surrounded by bushes instead of trees, hoping that the shorter foliage will keep more warmth in. The kid seems too tired to get into any trouble, drooping down to sit beneath a bush as soon as they stop. 

As soon as the spot is decided, Roque goes off in search of someone to steal tents from and Pooch goes off in search of food. Clay told him to pick whatever is fastest. Hopefully, he’ll be able to pickpocket someone’s wallet, because otherwise it’ll take longer to search through the dumpsters. 

Clay stays with Jensen. The kid is drifting off but fighting it. His head bobs as he jerks his chin from his chest for the third time. After a few minutes though, the kid  
shakes himself off and stands up, obviously trying a different tactic at staying awake. 

“Are we staying here?” Jensen asks, standing up over Clay. 

The kid can’t be still even as tired as he is and he’s picking leaves off of the bush before Clay can even answer. 

“Yeah, we’ll stay here for a while. We may have to move occasionally though,” he says, but he doesn’t explain. He doesn’t think the kid really needs to understand. 

Roque comes back first with the tents. They’re already open and so are like two huge half balloons. He takes no time setting them up though, simply drops them.  
Clay is getting up with a sigh to right them when Pooch comes bursting through the bushes. 

The tents are entirely forgotten in favor of food. Pooch apparently found some cash to purchase the cheapest things at the gas station, chips and Snickers bars. It’s not a lot, for three large teens, and not nutritious for one growing boy. Even as they’re eating, he’s worrying about getting more. 

The food’s gone practically immediately and Clay stands up, gathering up their water bottles. Everyone else has had to do their part so he’ll go fill up the water bottles. Before he can even tell them he’s going though, Pooch and Roque have started arguing about the setup of the tents and how to secure them. Jensen still looks tired as he watches them like a tennis match, a smirk on his face like he knows the answers but is enjoying it too much. 

He decides not to interrupt them since Jensen is occupied. When he comes back, the argument seems settled. Pooch is seated in front of one of the tents, now staked in the ground, and takes a water from Clay gratefully. 

“Where’s Jensen?” Clay asks hesitantly. He doesn’t see the kid and he can’t help but think that Roque and Pooch might have tried to get rid of the kid. 

Roque growls and nods his head to the right, down a small hill. “He’s over there. Trying to give our food away.”

Clay whips his neck to see that Jensen isn’t in any danger. The kid is sitting across from a dirty little girl, who’s clearly been on the streets for a while. She appears to be alone, but Clay can see that there are others hiding around the girl. 

Clay’s seen them before. They call themselves a family. Some teen girl who thinks it’s fun to hook up with some controlling guy and play house with a bunch of homeless rugrats. 

And then it dawns on Clay. Maybe Jensen would be better off with them. Clay admits that it never seemed like a good situation for the ‘mom’, but it might be better for Jensen. Then Jensen would have other kids to play with, and some kind of a woman figure, some kind of structure. 

Clay sees Jensen smiling, his mouth moving like it always does as he holds out one of the candy bars that Pooch brought them, which explains Roque’s anger. The girl isn’t smiling, however. She looks like as angry as most people on the streets, most people besides Jensen. And then she just suddenly picks up a rock and throws it at Jensen, grabbing the candy when Jensen drops it and taking off running. 

Clay sighs as any possibility of Jensen finding a family is dashed along with Jensen’s head. Maybe it’s just because Jensen is new to the streets, but the kid isn’t like the others that Clay has seen, or even like Roque. Jensen isn’t mean and desperate. 

It looks like Clay is going to have to keep the kid, keep the kid safe so he never does become like those other kids. Clay hangs his head as Jensen heads back up the hill, one hand to his forehead head where the rock hit. But he’s not crying or anything, not over the pain or the rejection. Jensen looks simply resigned and Clay’s pretty sure this isn’t a first for the kid. 

He lifts his head when the kid walks past him and he sees that Jensen was hit just under his hairline. It broke the skin and there’s a thin line of blood creeping toward the kid’s temple. 

“Are you ok?” Clay can’t help asking. His hand seems to reach out of his own volition to take a look at the cut. 

But the kid deftly ducks away from his hand and his concern as he sits down at a bush. “Fine,” he says nonchalantly. 

Clay watches the kid curiously. The blood is heading towards his eye now, but Jensen doesn’t seem concerned with anything but digging in the bag. And then the kid finds what he’s looking for. 

He brings out a bandaid, which Clay thinks is an odd thing for a kid to have brought when running away from home. But Jensen just slaps the wholly inadequate bandaid on his head and wipes away the thin stream of blood down his face with his dirty hand. 

And that’s when Clay sees that it’s a superman bandaid. Like Jensen is still young enough to believe that a superhero really can make everything better, even a goose egg of a bruise.

Apparently, it does make it better as Jensen starts talking like nothing happened. His voice only quakes at the beginning. “S-so the camp’s all set up, right? What’ll we do now? Do y’all…?” 

“Well, we need more food,” Clay cuts him off. If he didn’t interrupt the kid, he’d never get to answer a question. “We need to have some that we can keep here, and maybe some fuckin’ fruit.”

“Can I come?” Jensen asks, looking at him with those huge blue eyes. 

“No, you should stay here with Pooch and guard the tents, ok?” Clay says. He doesn’t want to take any chances with the kid’s safety. Besides Jensen loves Pooch.

“Pooch!” Clay calls out. 

Pooch bounds over and doesn’t seem to need any explanation for why he’s been called over. He immediately grins at Jensen. 

“Hey, kid, wanna help me for a second?” Pooch suggests, immediately trying to distract Jensen. 

Jensen stands up, always eager to help, to be needed, but he looks back at Clay with an expression on his face like he knows what Clay’s up to, knows that Clay  
wanted to get rid of him and he’s not happy about it. 

Roque falls into step with him as he heads out back into town to raid the dumpsters behind some of the cheap immigrant restaurants downtown. It’s normally a good place to find food that restaurants have to throw away. It’s still early though, even if it is already getting dark out. The restaurants won’t be throwing out the best food yet, not until after service ends. But he doesn’t want to wait, doesn’t want the kid to have to wait up at night until after the restaurants close. 

He’s going to the next dumpster when he catches sight of the blonde headed boy down the alley from them. 

“Jensen?” Clay calls out, not really sure that he’s seeing what he’s seeing as the kid disappears behind a dumpster. 

The boy doesn’t come out until Clay has stalked down the alleyway to stare between the two dumpsters where the kid is hiding. Jensen is crouched down near the wall, but when he knows his escape is cut off, he comes out readily. His eyes stay on his feet, though, and he doesn’t even try to defend himself or apologize. 

The kid’s nonresponse is enough to quell any urge that Clay has to scold. This kid is suddenly starting to bear a startling resemblance to those Dennis the Menace that Clay used to read in the comics of the newspaper. 

“Ok, if you won’t stay where I tell you, come on then,” Clay tries, motioning Jensen towards the dumpster he had been looking before. 

Bright blue eyes dare to look up at him then, but they’re suspicious like Jensen thinks it might be a trick. “Come on then,” Clay cajoles, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. 

The kid still won’t move forward, too scared of punishment despite all that Clay has done to keep the Jensen safe. So Clay does the only thing he can, the only thing he can think of. He walks away, goes back to the other dumpster, waving for Roque to follow him. Not looking back, he starts slowly going through the trash again. 

Eventually Jensen’s curiosity gets the better of him as Clay hoped. Out of the corner of his eye, Clay sees the kid come closer. 

And Jensen never could keep his mouth shut. “What are you looking for?”

“Food,” Clay says calmly, still not looking at the kid, keeping his hands in the dumpster. 

“In the dumpster?” the kid asks incredulously. Jensen stands on his tiptoes like then he’ll be tall enough to see inside the dumpster. 

“Yeah, people throw away plenty of food that’s still salvageable,” he explains. “Want to see?”

Before Clay has to time to react, Jensen steps back and jumps at the lip of the dumpster. Clay just manages not to grab the kid to prevent him from going entirely into the dumpster. Except Jensen lands on his stomach bent over the edge so that he’s half in and half out. At a loss for what else to do, Clay distracts the boy by reaching into the dumpster and grabbing a bag of bread. 

It’s molded and inedible, but he holds it in front of the kid’s face. Hopefully, Jensen will give up on the uncomfortable position soon. Jensen’s head bobs in understanding at the bag and then leans so far in that Clay is again afraid the kid will end up drowning in trash. But Jensen leans back out promptly, holding something distinctly not food. 

It’s a toy, some kind of plastic dinosaur that’s practically as long as the kid’s arm. “Look!” Jensen screams, shoving it into Clay’s face. 

It’s gone as quickly as it came as Jensen is now digging in the dumpster again, coming up this time with a disgusting looking teddy bear. Grimacing, Clay wonders how upset Jensen will be if he takes the bear away. 

Gently, Clay grabs the bear’s arm, pulling it away from Jensen. “That one’s dirty. Let’s look for food.”

Fortunately, the kid lets go of the bear and starts digging again. He doesn’t let go of the dinosaur though. But a plastic toy can be washed off with handsoap in the bathroom. 

They keep searching through each dumpster. Clay and Jensen in one while Roque searches another at the other end of the alley to cover more ground. But soon as Clay predicted the kid gets bored. They’re moving on to the next dumpster when Jensen stops to play with his toy, roaring for it as he makes it kinda gallop across the ground. 

Clay can’t help laughing, having almost forgotten exactly how young Jensen is when suddenly a door opens behind Jensen, light flooding into the dark alley and onto the boy who freezes like he’s been caught by a predator. Running towards Jensen, Clay doesn’t see that the shape in the doorway is an old woman until he’s got his hand on the kid’s thin arm. 

“What are you boys doing out here?” a woman calls out with a thick accent. And then she seems to understand what they are, what they’re doing. “Oh, are you alright, caro?”

Jensen steps back onto Clay’s foot, hugging the dinosaur tight to him, but Clay isn’t sure that they need to run yet. Besides, the old woman can’t exactly chase them down. 

“We’re fine, ma’am,” Clay starts but the woman doesn’t seem to be paying a bit of attention to him. Instead the woman bends over to be more on Jensen’s level. 

“Do you need some food?” she asks the kid despite Jensen’s complete lack of response. “You just wait here now. Tornero.”

She goes back inside and Clay thinks about running, wonders if she’s inside calling the police to take them to Child Protective Services. He glances back at Roque who’s been staying hidden in the shadows. Roque jerks his head violently in the direction of the alley’s exit, telling Clay in no uncertain terms that he thinks they should leave immediately. 

But Clay doesn’t know why, but he waits, and in a few short minutes, the old woman comes back out with a plastic bag, giving it to Clay even as she is bending down to talk to the boy again. 

“Here’s some pollo parmigian for you, tesoro. And I put some pane and some biscotto because little boys deserve something sweet,” she rattles off. “You come back if you need something, ok, tesoro.”

Clay nods, stunned, and leads the kid slowly out of the alley, the old woman still waving at them as they go. He hasn’t looked at the contents of the bag that he’s holding but he knows that it feels quite heavy, way more than a kid Jensen’s size could eat. 

Roque falls in step at the end of the alley and he’s scowling in distaste though he doesn’t say anything. But Clay looks down at the kid’s baby blue eyes and the fall of soft blonde hair and he sees what the little old lady must have seen. He has to laugh a little as he thinks that perhaps Jensen isn’t as big a burden as he thought, and not just because of the food he’s carrying. 

Forbidding Jensen doesn’t work and they can’t stay together all the time anyway. So Clay teaches Jensen to stay out of certain places when he’s not with one of them. And they teach Jensen to pick-pocket, but won’t let him panhandle with him. Sadly, it helps Clay’s piece of mind that Jensen is naturally wary of adults. 

Jensen always has bruises. He bumps into things, runs around like a…little kid. Clay knows that Jensen still gives food away sometimes, trying to make friends with any kids. Jensen’s always eager to please, always willing to share, to give someone another chance. He smiles and laughs and bounces around even when he’s upset or scared. 

Jensen even wins over Roque, mostly. The surly teen is the first to protect the kid from anyone who even stares at the kid too long. And eventually, the kid stops listening to Roque’s constant threats to make Jensen ‘shut up’. Finally realizing that the threats are meaningless, Jensen just keeps talking over Roque. 

So things go back to a new kind of normal. The only problem is that as winter comes to an end, Clay starts to think more about his birthday coming that summer. He’ll be eighteen which means that Clay can get a job without fearing CPS. Except that nobody wants to hire a homeless kid with not even a GED. 

Roque is also about to turn eighteen but he pretends not to notice that anything is about to change. And Pooch, Pooch would have no problem finding a job as a mechanic when he finally turns eighteen. Occasionally he does it for cash now and you don’t need a diploma for that. 

Clay starts thinking about studying to get his GED. Jensen’s always coming back with books that he finds somewhere (better not be the library, Clay told him not to go there) so he could get some textbooks probably. With a GED, he could even join the army, like his father. He’d make more money, right away, maybe enough that he could send some back to Jensen and Pooch. 

Clay didn’t realize that he was being so obvious with his worries, obvious enough that Jensen whom he’s been trying to protect has picked up on it. 

“Do you think I could pass the GED? Do I need a class for that?” Clay asks, as if asking a child is completely normal.

Jensen sighs like this isn’t the first time he’s heard this. “I can get you a GED. I could probably get you a high school diploma.”

Clay snorts, wondering what Jensen is talking about now. “What are you gonna do? Take the test for me?”

Jensen shrugs. “No, I was gonna fake the test,” Jensen says nonchalantly. “All I need is a computer and a wifi connection and I can hack in and make it look like you passed the GED.”

“How?” Clay says, still unbelieving. 

“What are you, some kinda genius?” Roque snarks. 

Jensen ducks his face down like he’s ashamed, before answering with a simple, “Yes.”

“How are you going to get a computer?” Pooch asks, confused. 

Clay is still trying to process Jensen, an eight year old who now lives on the street, knowing how to hack into anything. 

“Steal one,” Jensen shrugs. 

Roque laughs meanly at the kid. “Where’re you even gonna plug it in?”

“Even streetlights have outlets nowadays,” Pooch deflects Roque. “Or we could get you into the library, maybe a coffee bar if we save our pennies and clean you up.”

And just like that, apparently they’re going to get him a GED. Clay lets out a loud surprising laugh, overcome with relief and happiness and things he can’t name.  
He’s reaching out to pat Jensen’s shoulder before he remembers that the kid doesn’t like to be touched.

But when Jensen allows the friendly contact, when the kid keeps smiling as if it’s not even a big deal, that feels almost as good as a chance at the future. 

*****************************THAT SUMMER************************ 

Carlos lies on the roof of an abandoned three story warehouse building watching the comings and goings of the building across a slim alley. He followed the man from the drug cartel here to LA, the man with the snakeskin boots. He hid away in the back of a truck for a couple hours from his home near the Mexican border a couple of days ago. 

He has spent nearly every minute of his days here in LA on this roof alone, the summer sun beating down on his back. No one knows he’s here. The last thing that Carlos is expecting is to be suddenly joined by a tow-headed white boy suddenly lying beside him. 

“What’re you watching?” the boy asks. 

“Mierda,” Carlos curses, jerking in shock, and scrambles away from the boy. 

The boy simply lies there as Carlos scrambles away, bright sky blue eyes behind glasses on his baby face. He can’t be more than 7 or 8 and as white as they come. Where did he come from? It’s doubtful that the boy is a spy for the drug cartels but it’s not impossible. They are capable of any atrocity. 

Scowling, Carlos keeps backing away. Spy or not, he can’t waste time taking care of a child. He has to lose him. 

He dashes to the fire escape a second later, clambering down the stairs with a crash. 

“Hey,” the boy calls after him. “I didn’t mean to scare you or nothin’. I just want to talk.”

Carlos hesitates at the bottom of the stairwell, unsure exactly where to go when he hears the boy’s feet hitting the concrete behind him, jumping down from the landing. And then there’s a shout. 

“Jensen!”

Carlos jumps and turns around, looking up to see three larger, older teenagers seemingly towering in front of him. His first instinct is to push the kid behind him. Carlos’s almost fourteen but he’s small and the boy is almost as tall as him, but still a boy. He tries to keep the boy behind him as he moves them toward the wall of the building. 

“Are you trying to protect him?” the white teen calls out, incredulously. “Or kidnap him?” 

The last words are harsher, a threat, and then the biggest teen, the one with the scar over his eye steps forward menacingly. 

“Jensen, get over here,” the scary one growls. 

Carlos doesn’t try to stop the boy from going to the older group. He watches alone and vulnerable as the white guy pushes the kid behind him like a big brother. Perhaps the white teen is. But why is a little boy running around warehouses filled with drugs? Where are his parents?

Taking a small, slow step to the side, Carlos hopes that he can get away while the older teens are busy with the boy. He just wants to get away from them. 

“Hey, can he come with us?” the boy suddenly yells at him, halting his progress at getting away. “Come with us! We can teach you better places to hide than on rooftops and…” 

“Parada. Keep. Him. Away,” Carlos growls before running away. 

He doesn’t need them. He doesn’t need friends or help or anything rather than to accomplish what he came here for. He just wants them to go away so he can go back to the roof. 

It’s not until that night that he finds the bag of M&Ms in his pocket.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The very next morning, Carlos’s back on that roof watching again, trying to find patterns in the comings and goings. This time he hears small feet clambering up the stairs of the fire escape, not trying to be quiet at all. Carlos tenses, but the fire escape is the only way off the roof. 

The boy seems sheepish as he emerges over the side of the roof. But the glare on Carlos’s face doesn’t seem to faze him. Instead the boy holds out a packaged sandwich like a peace offering. 

“No necesito tu caridad,” Carlos grumbles and turns back to the building. The boy may not be a threat, but he is an obstacle and Carlos ignores him hoping the boy will go away. 

But that doesn’t seem to faze the boy either as he moves closer, taking a seat beside Carlos’s prone form, the sandwich cradled in his lap. 

“Le dije a desaparecer,” Carlos says without taking his eyes from the other building. 

“You know I have no idea what you’re saying,” the boy says nonchalantly, like Carlos’s attitude isn’t bothering him at all. “But that’s ok, the guys always say that I talk enough for two people. I can even make up a name for you since you don’t want to talk. Hmmm…”

Carlos can’t help sneaking a glance at the kid out of the corner of his eye but the boy is looking off into the distance.

“Well, you’re lying up here like a cat on a branch, like a…cougar, yeah, a cougar! Because they live in South America and you speak Spanish!” the boy finishes with a flurry. 

Now Carlos has to turn and look at the boy. He’s speechless. 

“It’s perfect,” the kid declares. “Cougar. So, Cougs what’re you doin’ watching that building over there? I was thinking that it’s a secret government…”

“I told you to leave me alone,” Carlos says in English, his voice quiet, but Jensen stops talking immediately. 

“You didn’t mean it, if you had meant it you would have just hit me instead of running away, and besides you look hungry,” the boy finishes without taking a breath. 

Carlos scoffs. “Eres un nino. Usted debe comer.” Then he takes a deep breath and gives in, speaking carefully in English. “You eat it.”

“No, I had some already,” the boy protests. 

Not wanting to argue about it, Carlos goes back to watching the building and ignoring the boy and food. He tells himself that he only cares that the boy is being taken care of. 

But the boy doesn’t take the hint in Carlos’s silence. He continues talking. “I help find the others find the food. You met them yesterday. There’s Clay, he’s the smartest, knows all the best places to sleep and stuff. He acts like he’s the boss, like I need his help to do everything. And then there’s Roque, he’s the scary one. It’s not personal, though, so don’t take it to heart. He’s like that with everyone. The only person he likes is Clay and half the time you wouldn’t know it. I don’t think you really met Pooch yesterday. He’s the fun one.”

“Shut up,” Carlos tries again.

Carlos tries desperately not to feel guilty when the boy does shut up for a moment and bites his lip.

“Did you know,” the boy suddenly starts again, “that cougars can’t roar like other big cats? In fact, they doesn’t make a lot of vocalizations at all, just like you. And there are no pure black panthers? When people say black panther, they’re really talking about a black jaguar or a leopard, which are actually the same thing. Isn’t that stupid? To have two names for the same thing?”

Carlos tries not to listen, tries not to deviate from his purpose of being in LA. But the chatter is comforting. The kid is making as much noise as all four of his older siblings altogether, squabbling in the kitchen as his mama cooked. His stomach suddenly feels an empty pit and not just because he’s hungry. 

“Jensen!”

The boy jerks like he’s been slapped at the sound of his name. Then he’s scrambling to look over the side of the building. Carlos can’t help looking over himself and he sees the white guy calling at the kid. 

“Come on! Get down and stop bothering him,” the white guy yells. 

Carlos winces at the noise the guy is making. The idiot is more of a threat than the kid is at this point. But it is kind of amusing how Jensen reacts like his Dad suddenly caught him skipping chores. It’s even more funny when Carlos remembers what the boy just said about the guy. 

“I’m not…” the by starts to deny but then he stops. “Ok, fine, I’m coming, I’m…I’ll see you later.”

And with those words, the boy exits as noisily as he came into Carlos’s day, leaving behind the sandwich and a Snickers bar. Carlos feels almost ashamed as he scoops them up as soon as the boy is out of sight. He scarfs the sandwich down immediately but keeps the Snickers until it gets dark.  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The next day it rains and thunders and Carlos’s mood feels about the same. He’s been watching the building, but still he can’t think of a single way to get inside, to get past the alarm on the front door and the security guards in the back. It was a split second decision to hop in the back of the truck, but now that he’s here he can’t come up with any plan. 

He’s hiding in a doorway this time, crouched there against the wall hiding from the rain, miserable and angry and scared. He doesn’t know what to do. There’s no way home and even if there was, how could he go back there? Soon, the guards will probably notice him, if they haven’t already. Carlos realizes that he’s just another kid on the streets of LA with no food or protection. God only knows what could happen, who could be out there…

There’s a soft sound of a scuffed foot behind him and his fist is flying before he even thinks about it. The crack of his fist against the boy’s cheek is enough to send the boy flying into the other wall where he crumples to the ground in a heap. 

Swallowing hard, Carlos is frozen for a moment, unsure what to do. He wants to apologize, he wants to say he didn’t mean to. He’d never hit a child, he’d never hit anyone without being in danger. But the words don’t make it out of his mouth. He’s a miserable failure and now he hit the boy who’s been bringing him food.  
Maybe it’s for the best. The kid will get the hint now. Jensen will probably be hurt worse than a punch if he continues hanging around Carlos, or sneaking up on people in this area. 

But in the end, Carlos can’t just leave the kid on the ground. But he doesn’t know exactly what to do. This boy has no father to clean his boo-boos or give him a treat and wipe his tears, no siblings to tease him and make him feel better. 

The boy isn’t even crying but as Carlos crouches down and moves closer, he can see a faint trembling. The boy is literally cowering. 

“Nino,” Carlos whispers, but as soon as his hand touches the trembling shoulder, the boy flinches and moves away. 

“Jensen,” Carlos tries the boy’s actual name. 

But Jensen doesn’t even pause as he moves to go back out into the pouring rain. The boy keeps his face averted and Carlos can’t catch the blue eyes. 

“Jensen, lo siento. I’m sorry. Are you alright?” Carlos tries, his guilt rising by the second as the boy seems to be even smaller than usual, hunching himself. 

“No, it’s ok,” Jensen says, his voice muffled and still not showing his face. “I uh, I’ll see you later.”

The boy scrambles away, fast and furious as he goes out into the storm. Carlos lets him go, slumping against the other wall again. The boy wasn’t crying but Carlos is, tears running down his cheeks as he chokes on his own breath. But he doesn’t know if he’s crying for himself or the boy. Unsurprisingly, there’s another sandwich  
and a little bag of chips left behind.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The next morning, Carlos is coming down off the fire escape to find the big scary teen is there, obviously looking for him. Carlos tries to stand still and wait for the blow he knows it coming but he can’t help closing his eyes. 

“Jensen likes you. But if you touch him again,” the older teen growls, “I’ll kill you.”

Carlos flutters his eyes open in surprise at the other teen’s words. He had been expecting to get punched, he deserves after hitting a small boy whether it was an accident or not. But this guy is totally serious about killing him. Even after everything, the reality of the threat of violence hits Carlos hard. 

Frightened, Carlos simply nods once, incapable of speaking. He doesn’t know what he would say if he could. Satisfied, the big teen turns his back to walk away. 

Leaving Carlos standing there feeling ashamed and rejected. Who is this person that he has become? Who sleeps on rooftops and hits young boys? And he’s still no closer to gaining access to the building, no closer to revenge. He’s pathetic. He’s going to die in this pursuit, he knows that now. He’s not smart enough to get in and still get back out. And if he doesn’t make a move soon, then Jensen will go down with him. He’s just a boy. 

Carlos is here trying to protect children like Jensen, protect others from this man who just walked into his father’s shop and destroyed Carlos’s life…

Without really thinking about it, Carlos is walking across the narrow street to the building. If he can just get inside, he’ll figure it out from there. He barely sees the man before he runs straight into a large body. 

“Oye, chico,” the man says, grabbing his arm. “A donde vas?”

Carlos’s heart is in his throat as he looks up. He recognizes the man as one of the guards who goes in and out of the building. The man must recognize him, from the rooftop, or maybe even from his father’s shop…?

“Tienes hambre?” the man says, his voice softer as a smile turns up his lips. “Ven conmigo. Le dara alimentos.”

Carlos continues staring at the man, not responding as he tries to figure out the man’s words over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. And then it hits him.  
This man is trying to get him inside, luring him in with promises of food, and it’s not out of generosity. The hand on his arm is now gentler but still firmly pulling at him. Carlos is only fourteen but he knows about men like this, about what happens to children on the streets. 

But if it gets him inside the house…he doesn’t really have a choice, does he? This may be his only chance to get inside. Surely it will be worth it, he won’t do anything. He just has to get inside…

He opens his mouth to answer yes, but he doesn’t get out a single sound before the man suddenly bends over, crying out in pain and then crumples to the sidewalk. 

“Come on!”

It’s the boy’s hand on his arm now, long thin fingers gripping his wrist hard enough to bruise, pulling him away from the man on his knees in front of him. Jensen is trying to run, pulling on his arm. Finally, Carlos gets his feet underneath him just in time for the boy to pull him around a corner and under a bent chain link fence. 

Carlos can’t hear if anyone is following them, but the kid keeps running until they finally hide in the entrance of an apartment building blocks away. Suddenly Jensen drops his hand, bending over to lean his hands on his knees and pant. Carlos follows suit.

“Que estas hacienda?” Carlos pants out, frustrated and defeated. 

But the boy straightens with a smile on his face. “Whew! I just saved you! You got to know the moves,” the boy says, dancing around with a smile. “When I kicked him in the nuts, did you see? He just collapsed…”

“I don’t need your help,” Carlos growls. 

The boy stops talking but his mouth simply hangs open in shock as he processes Carlos’s angry words. “You…You don’t know what that guy, I know about guys like that…I did save you,” the boy spits out. 

“I didn’t need saving!” Carlos says, raising his voice for the first time. 

But he’s not prepared for the way that big baby blue eyes fill with tears. It’s worse to watch than when Carlos hit the boy. And then the boy suddenly turns, running away from Carlos for the first time. 

“No! Lo siento, lo siento…,” Carlos yells. 

Maybe he should have just let the boy run back to his protectors but he’s surprised though when the kid does slow his steps. Carlos slowly approaches, though Jensen keeps his face down, refusing to turn. It occurs to him that no matter how happy the boy acts and no matter how much the older teens look out for the boy, Jensen is still just an orphan on the streets of a big city.

“You did save me,” Carlos says. 

And just like that the boy’s tight shoulders relax. Wiping his face discreetly, the boy then turns to face Carlos wearing a shaky smile. “Yeah? I did,” the boy says, his voice a pale imitation of his earlier excitement. 

“So you’re gonna come back with me now, right?” the boy asks. “Stay with us? At least for tonight?”

Carlos can’t say anything because he’s so shocked at the sudden change. The boy is so certain that he’s won now and yet two seconds ago, he was eviscerated by Carlos’s denials.

“You can tell Clay about the man in the building. He’s smart. He can help,” the boy cajoles. 

“What-What are you talking ab…” Carlos stutters in surprise.

“You’re not staring at the place night and day for no reason,” the boy responds sensibly. 

Carlos still can’t come up with an answer, but he follows stupidly when the boy starts walking again. He feels like he can’t help but be nice to this child who wanted to take care of him, a stranger. And he’s all out of plans and options anyway. 

Jensen leads him into a part of the city that he’s never been before, a place unlike any other that he’s ever seen. They’re walking quickly past other homeless people, huddled in dirty coats. Carlos’s eyes swivel from one side to the other, taking in all of them, young and old but all unwashed with haunted dark eyes. 

The boy moves quick and nimble, not taking in the other people as he leads Carlos away from them to a small clearing in the park where a dark skinned teenager is sitting. The teen smiles up at Carlos like he’s not even surprised to see them. 

“So you decided to finally come down, huh?” the teen asks Carlos. 

The boy smiles at the teasing, but says, “Awww, come on, Pooch, lay off…”

“Jensen,” the white teen from before suddenly appears, his stern voice actually making Jensen shut up. “You know you’re not supposed to go that way by yourself,” Clay sighs like he knows his words are futile. 

“But I wasn’t by myself,” Jensen says smartly, “I was with Cougar.”

Clay rolls his eyes at the child’s antics. “Whatever. Don’t do it again.”

Clay has barely finished speaking when something is flying at Carlos’s head. He just manages to catch it and realizes that it’s a Snicker’s bar. He looks over to see that the boy is holding a bag of chips. 

Jensen turns the bag over in his hands hesitantly, looking over at the white teen. “I already had…”

“Just eat it,” the biggest scary one growls. Carlos jumps, not having seen him arrive. “You can’t be the runt forever.”

Now it’s the boy who rolls his eyes, but he obliges and opens the bag. Carlos is looking back and forth between all of them like he’s watching an intense game. They are absolutely comfortable with one another, a family despite what Jensen had said earlier. 

Carlos carefully unwraps the candy bar, trying not to gain their attention. He feels ashamed that he’s taking the food that the older teens presumably worked for, the food that feeds Jensen. But none of the guys are even paying attention to him right now. And he’s so hungry that his mouth is watering before he takes his first bite. 

Jensen has stuffed a few chips in his mouth but he’s trying to talk again, telling the least scary looking one, Pooch, about something or other, something that Pooch is working on, it seems. 

“So what’s your name?” the scary one asks. 

The question interrupts Jensen, but the boy immediately switches gears to answer the question himself. “I nicknamed him Cougar,” the boy pipes up. “Because he’s really quiet and he lies on the top of rooftop stalking his prey just like cougars, and he speaks Spanish and cougars live…well, they also live in the western United States. Did you know…?”

“Ok, Cougar,” the white teen interrupts, smirking at the use of the nickname, “Why’re you watching the man with the snake-skin boots?”

Carlos sputters. “How do you…?” They must have seen him watching the building, but how do they all know about him?

But Clay doesn’t wait for a real answer, simply continues with his observances. “He works for the drug cartel and you’re obviously not used to living on the streets. I’m guessing revenge.”

Carlos flushes in anger and humiliation, dropping his eyes to his lap. Instead of answering, he smoothes the crinkles out of the empty wrapper and shrugs one shoulder. He hasn’t talked to anyone about what happened, has tried not to even think about it. 

He looks up when he hears someone moving toward him, but it’s only Jensen. The boy has scooted closer as if in comfort, but doesn’t do anything else, only seems uncomfortable. 

Carlos is the youngest in his family. He’s always been taken care of by his older sisters and his mother doted over her only son. His father taught him how to work in the shop, how to take care of his family in return. But he couldn’t take care of them when it really mattered. 

“Mi padre,” Carlos whispers. 

He can’t say the rest out loud, and it seems that they already know. The man in the snakeskin boots killed his father, while Carlos hid in the shop. He was in the back when he heard the arguing and then had dropped to his knees to hide when he heard the shot. From his hiding place, he saw his father’s jean-clad legs, saw the blood on the floor, growing ever larger. And he could see the snake-skin boots, obviously in charge of the others. 

Carlos has to swallow before he can start again. “I followed him,” Carlos continues after the long silence. “I had to, have to do something. He has to pay,” Carlos’s voice breaks as tears fill his eyes. 

He can’t go home, can’t face his sisters afterwards, face his mother with her knowing that he didn’t do anything but hide. He had to make it right. So he climbed into the back of one of their trucks and by some luck, they never unloaded. When they stopped in LA, he climbed out and climbed onto the roof of a nearby building. 

He grits his jaw, waiting for these teenagers to tell him that he’s stupid, that he’s incapable, and a failure. But when he finally looks up, it’s to see Clay rubbing his chin in thought. 

“You’ve been watching when they come and go?” Clay asks. 

“Yes, they…” Carlos has to clear the emotion out of his voice. “They have a schedule based on shipments, but there are always guards around and they have a security system that doesn’t call the regular police.”

“Oh, well that’s easy to get around,” Jensen says, ignoring the way that the others glare at him. “Once an alarm goes off, the guards will all go towards it and turn off the alarm, meaning you can sneak in the back.”

Carlos drops his eyes to his lap again. The boy’s plan, it sounds so simple, but Carlos never thought of it, not after almost a week of watching the place. It’s just another example of how much of a failure he is that a child could think of something after only a few seconds. 

Apparently his insecurities show on his face, because Pooch speaks up then in an apologetic voice. “Hey, it’s not…only Jensen would be smart enough to immediately think of that.”

“And you may have noticed but he literally can’t keep his smartness to himself,” Roque adds gruffly. “People don’t much like being told what they don’t know all the time.”

Jensen flushes, obviously sensitive to his friends’ opinions. “You’re just mad I’m smarter than you, Roque,” he retorts, half-heartedly. 

“If getting in is the easy part,” Clay continues as if the others hadn’t spoken, “then the hard part is what to do once we’re inside.”

“That’s easy,” Carlos says. “I’ll just hide and kill him as soon as I see him.”

“Look, I know you’re all kamikaze and shit, but we’re not helping you kill yourself and I don’t think it’ll be that easy to kill him,” Clay says forcefully. 

Carlos jerks his face away, angry at the insinuation that he should defer to their plan. 

“Roque, let’s go see what we can rustle up. Pooch, you keep an eye on them,” Clay says as he stands. 

And they’re treating him like he’s as young as Jensen, that he needs to be watched. He does not need them to plan the attack and not include him. 

He’s working himself up into a good tantrum when Jensen bounds over, digging underneath the side of the blankets until he comes up with some kind of toy, a plastic dinosaur. 

The kid chuckles as he shows it to Carlos. “This is an Apatosaurus but I call him squidgy. He’s a…”

Jensen is interrupted as his half-eaten bag of chips is pressed into his chest. “Kid, eat your food,” Pooch says. “And stop scaring Cougar with your crazy dino storylines.”

The boy looks sheepish as he shoves another handful of chips in his mouth, but he doesn’t stay quiet long.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

It’s been a couple hours and it’s starting to get dark when Carlos sees Clay and Roque heading back toward their small camp. The boy has been a little stircrazy since they left. Jensen has been running around Carlos and Pooch with his dino toy in his hand alternating between making growling noises and high-pitched pleading noises in some storyline that Carlos can’t follow. He wonders if his sisters were as amused by his antics when he was small.

But the mere fact that Jensen is having fun seems to piss Roque off as he growls, “Settle the fuck down and stop making so much noise.”

Carlos keeps his mouth shut though he bristles at the way the scary one talks to a boy, even though he knows that Roque cares for Jensen. He supposes that Jensen could get on anyone’s nerves though.

“Cops were hanging around the soup kitchen,” Roque explains their empty hands gruffly as Jensen sits down beside Carlos. 

Carlos keeps his head down. He’s hungry but even acknowledging his disappointment at the lack of food makes guilt clutch his chest. The boy to his right just shrugs like going without meals is not that unusual. But then those big blue eyes are turned on him, full of concern for Carlos. 

Carlos stays silent and looks away, not wanting the boy’s pity. He hopes that Clay will bring up the plan that was mentioned before the two oldest left, but he tries to be patient and not demanding. 

“Cougar, do the men recognize you?” Clay asks. 

Carlos shakes his head in answer, barely registering that he’s still responding to the crazy nickname the kid gave him. He doesn’t have time to ask any questions before the teen is speaking again. 

“Roque and I have come up with a plan,” Clay continues as if the answer was a given, “but we need a few more days to perfect it. And in the meantime, we’ll need to keep watching, figure out when the next shipment will be here.”

Carlos opens his mouth to ask about the plan, but Clay is already standing. Carlos ends up shutting his mouth when Clay and then the other two teens move over to a pile of bedding. He supposes it’s meant as a signal the end of the conversation. 

But it’s not until he sees Clay is talking to the two older ones, leaving him out as if he is a child like Jensen that Carlos becomes angry. They’re not that much older than him and it’s his revenge, not theirs. He is meant to take care of it. Jensen seems to understand the others’ behavior and heads over to another pile of blankets further away from the others under a bush. It has the largest pile of blankets and Jensen takes half and begins making another bed. 

Carlos sits there stupidly, not knowing what to do with himself. Then the boy digs out a flashlight and a dog-eared novel from a child’s backpack. It’s obvious that these things are important to Jensen and when the boy holds them out, Carlos takes them with a heavy heart. This boy has nearly nothing and he is freely sharing it all. Chastened, Carlos gets into the bedding, feeling tired almost immediately at the comfort. Jensen chatters at semi-quietly at him, telling him pretty much the entire plot of the book. Perhaps the boy is trying to keep Carlos’s mind off of his worries, but he falls asleep without hearing any of it. 

But even being more comfortable than he’s been in a week doesn’t make the nightmares stop. It’s dark when he opens his eyes panting in fear, but he can clearly see the red of his father’s blood behind his eyelids. 

There’s the spark of a trashcan fire on the edge of his vision and for a moment, Carlos can’t remember where he is. His body is rigid with fear until he hears a child’s soft voice, Jensen’s voice. And then there’s a tiny hand on his shoulder, tiny like one of his sister’s soft hands. 

Tears are clouding his eyes when he turns over and he can almost pretend it is his youngest sister when he pulls the boy down into a hug. He clutches at the boy’s bony back, desperate for any comfort, but he can’t tell who is comforting whom as Jensen is gripping his biceps just as hard. 

After a long moment, Jensen’s grip loosens and he starts to rub Carlos’s back despite the awkward angle. Carlos is just thankful that the boy doesn’t move away yet. Normally the nightmares would keep him up for hours, but his eyelids start to droop again quickly. He feels comfortable and safe. 

He doesn’t wake up until the morning when he feels eyes staring at him. Blinking against the sun, Carlos looks over to see all three teens staring at him, at them he corrects himself when he feels the boy’s thin form still curled beside him. 

The other teens look away once his eyes are open but Clay doesn’t look away. Carlos flushes, thinking that Clay is mad at him, as if Carlos has done something to hurt the boy. But there’s a myriad of emotions in the teen’s dark eyes eyes, surprise and pride and confusion. And then the older teen nods as if he approves. 

Clay stands then, but the moment is broken as his stomach growls angrily then. Carlos smiles, glad that he’s not the only one feeling hungry and weak. The sound is loud enough that it wakes Jensen as well. The boy’s face is mashed into Carlos’s thin bicep. Jensen snuffles and then kicks Carlos in the shin. 

Carlos grunts and Clay laughs. “Ok, Cougar, here’s the plan. Did you watch the movie, Home Alone, as a kid, Cougar?”

Cougar nods hesitantly, confused and wondering how in the hell a children’s Christmas movie has anything to do with the man that killed his father. 

“We’re going to use Jensen’s idea to get into the building as soon as they receive the next drug shipment, but then we’ve got to separate snakeskin boots from the rest of his security guys. So I need you and Jensen to keep watching for the shipment, and we’ll find some food and start on the supplies,” Clay can’t help giving the Cougar a wink as he finishes his explanation.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Carlos’s stomach feels like it’s shriveled into a raisin as he and the boy climb the fire escape to the rooftop again. Even the boy seems tired, not zipping up the stairs as he sometimes does. Carlos wonders how long the kid has been on the streets. He wonders how he met these other teens who take care of him because it doesn’t seem as if they are related. 

The boy is even quiet and still as they settle in to stare at the building next door. It looks the same as the day before, meaning no shipment has arrived yet. He can see the guards ascending the staircase inside the building as they switch their positions. 

Carlos is about to fall asleep when Pooch arrives with some apples and a bag of semi-stale bagels for them to eat. He and Jensen fall on them like dogs, and Pooch is gone when Carlos looks up. He had been hoping that maybe Pooch would be more forthcoming than Clay, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. 

With no other choice, they go back to watching the building. Jensen dozes a little but Carlos is determined to keep his eyes open. If he wants Clay to treat him like an adult then he’ll have to act like one. 

The sun is beating down on them and Jensen is explaining why his toy dino is not a brontosaurus when Clay comes up the stairs. Carlos starts spouting off questions before he’s even made it off the fire escape not wanting Clay to escape his questions this time. 

“What supplies are you looking for? What is the plan? How are we…?” Carlos asks frantically. 

Clay smiles easily, even laughs a little as he crosses the roof and sits down behind the two younger boys. “Alright, let me try to explain it. First, I brought y’all something.”

He brings out a takeout container of spaghetti and meatballs and gives them two forks for them to share it. “It’s from the soup kitchen,” Clay explains. 

“They make one meal a day for the homeless,” Jensen says with his mouth already full of noodles. “They sneak a container for me.”

“And I also brought you these,” Clay continues, bringing out a pair of heavy binoculars. 

“What’re we…?” Carlos starts. 

“Before we can make a good plan,” Clays says. “We need to know exactly what’s going on in there.”

Carlos nods, sitting up straighter as he tries to seem serious. He sets aside the rest of the food as he reaches out for the binoculars. Jensen slurps up the rest of the sauce as Clay points Carlos back to the building across the narrow alley. 

“So we need to know the layout of the building. How many rooms, staircases, closets, and windows?” Clay says. “I’ve got this little notebook and Jensen’s pen so we can write it down.”

Carlos nods seriously, “Si, I’ve got it.”

But Clay doesn’t get up to go, instead he gestures to the building again. “So tell me what you see.”

Carlos hesitates for a second before understanding comes to him. Still he’s cautious as he lifts the binoculars to his eyes and stairs into one of the windows next door. He doesn’t want to seem stupid or let Clay down, let his father down. “There’s only one staircase.”

“Ok, stay down a little because binoculars are a little suspicious,” Clay says, his hand pushing down on Carlos’s shoulder a little. 

Carlos does as he should, and turns to fully face the building noticing that Jensen does the same, crouching down like they’re secret spies on a mission. 

“There are three doors in the upstairs and the first floor is just a wide open warehouse with wooden pallets and tables, a few chairs,” Carlos starts again. 

Clay continues to ask Carlos questions and they pass the binoculars around, even letting Jensen have a turn before the boy gets bored with the whole thing. 

It’s late afternoon when Roque comes up the stairs, telling the two younger boys to get lost. Carlos’s first reaction is anger because this is his mission, his revenge, and he clutches the binoculars closer. 

But Jensen pops up from the ground, hissing, “Yes!” Only then does Carlos realize that this is Roque doing them a favor by taking a shift. And still Carlos hesitates, not wanting to trust the work to anyone else, before getting up to climb down again. He’s too tired to focus anymore.

Pooch is down at the bottom of the fire escape to meet them and suddenly Jensen can’t seem to shut up, talking like they had the most interesting day. Carlos follows as the three of them start walking, but they don’t seem to be going back to where they slept. Then Jensen starts pointing out the places as they pass, the best places to find books and toys, the best places to dumpster dive for food, the places Clay tells him not to go, the places where other homeless people hang out and what kind of people they are. 

They do end up back at the park, just in another section. As soon as they cross the street to get there, Jensen throws the dino toy to the ground and runs excitedly away from them. Carlos is confused and he makes to run after the boy until he finally sees Pooch pulling out a Frisbee. With a small smile, Carlos starts to run himself, making a triangle of the three of them.

Running around after the Frisbee is a welcome relief after having spent the past week crouched on that rooftop. It makes Carlos almost forget what has happened. Jensen seems to be having a great time as well, though he misses the Frisbee nearly all of the time. 

They don’t head back to the camp til the sun is halfway past the horizon, and when they make it there, the two oldest teens still aren’t there. Carlos hates to wonder if there will be any more food today. He remembers that Jensen said the soup kitchen only gives out one meal per day. 

With a dramatic sigh, Jensen drops onto his bedding that’s still mixed up in Carlos’s. He’s lying down and quiet for five seconds before he’s asking, “Hey, wanna read?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before pulling out one of the paperback books from the backpack. 

Carlos had looked through the books the night before and not many seemed appropriate for such a young child, but he keeps that to himself as Jensen chooses the one young adult book that he has. He offers it first to Carlos who refuses with a shake of his head before Jensen opens the book himself. 

Soon both he and Jensen are lying on the floor as Jensen reads aloud. The boy doesn’t stumble on any words as he reads, but he does add a lot of commentary and fidgets the whole time. But Carlos eventually tunes out, not caring about a book that he probably won’t finish. He’s glad when Clay and Roque come back. 

“Shouldn’t we watch through the night?” Carlos asks, sitting up as soon as soon as he spots them. 

“Nah,” Clay says, taking a seat. “If anything comes tonight, we’ll find out tomorrow morning and besides, even if a shipment did come tonight, we’ve still got to get the stuff first.”

Clay opens a plastic grocery bag then, and pours out a bag of chips and some candy bars. Carlos is only a little disappointed at the dinner. He should be grateful for anything. Pooch opens the large bag of chips immediately and Clay is laughing at something that Roque said. Carlos would love to know the joke because it seemed like Roque was incapable of being less than serious, much less actually funny. 

“So tomorrow,” Clay starts, switching gears while he unwraps a candy bar, “Roque and Pooch will keep an eye on the building and the three of us will get the rest of the supplies. I think I know where we can find them and can use somebody smaller.” 

“Do you have the cards still?” Pooch asks, changing the subject deftly. 

“Of course, I do,” Roque snarls, taking a stack of cards from his backpack. 

They talk about playing a game as if this were any other night and not a night where they’re discussing a plan risking their lives. Carlos never even gets to ask about the plan or the supplies. Jensen jumps up from beside him and grabs a handful of chips. The boy can barely wait for Roque to shuffle the cards before taking one. 

Carlos takes a place in the circle cautiously and takes a card when the deck is offered to him. He’s confused when all the others then press the slick cards to their foreheads. It’s not a game he recognizes.

“You don’t know how to play?” Jensen asks, but he sounds far too excited at the prospect. “We’ll play together and I can teach you.”

Carlos gives the boy a small smile and settles in to play card games for the night.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The next morning, Carlos wakes to see the back of a blonde head. The boy never moved his bedding away from Carlos’s own. Maybe that’s why he actually slept through the night. But when he sits up he sees that Jensen isn’t still sleeping. The boy is lying on his side with a book open right in front of his face, the glasses off on the blanket. 

Not speaking, Carlos rubs his face. He’s just reaching for water canteen when the others start to move. He wonders how long Jensen has been awake. It seems the boy is familiar enough with waking early that he knows how to occupy himself, miraculously quiet. 

It seems almost routine now, the way that some of the older teens go ahead and piss in the bushes and then they all make their way to the bathroom to brush their teeth. Carlos had been surprised by that, that they would spend their little bit of money to get toothbrushes and toothpaste, but Clay had said that not brushing was disgusting and that the shelters often gave out free toiletries. 

They’ve still got some candy left, which they share for breakfast, but then Roque and Pooch head back to the roof. Roque grumbles all the way out. 

Jensen seems particularly excited not to have to sit on the roof this morning. He’s hopping along to keep up with Clay as the older teen leads them into a more populated area of the city. Carlos follows just behind them looking around. There are now taller buildings around them, apartment building maybe since many have individual balconies. 

They turn down an alley around the back of the buildings, an alley filled with the stink of dumpsters. He doesn’t have long to think about what they’re doing back here when Jensen runs ahead jumping onto the edge of the nearest dumpster. He’s searching through the trash for something. 

Then the kid pulls out a half-empty bag of bread, much like the bag of bagels that they had yesterday morning and Carlos understands. They’re searching for food in these dumpsters. 

It’s amazing how much they find, what people throw away, food and practically new markers that Jensen crows about. Soon they have enough to bring back to the others. Clay puts his hands around the boy’s waist to put him back safely on the ground. 

But the dumpsters aren’t apparently the only reason they’re here. With Clay holding their food items, they head down another alley. There aren’t any other homeless in this area of town. And it’s so early in the morning that there aren’t many people on the streets at all. Everyone’s at work or school. The three of them walk down another alley until they reach a chained fence. 

“There it is,” Clay says suddenly, pointing inside the chained gates. “We need those paint cans.”

For a minute, Carlos can’t imagine how they are going to get the cans. The chainlink fence would be easy enough to climb but there is barbed wire on top and they’re all wearing short sleeves. But Jensen is already moving toward the fence. Clay’s body shields the view of the boy squeezing between the gates and under the chain. 

As small as Carlos is for his age, he recognizes that he’s not still small enough to get in. Jensen easily grabs the paint cans, throwing one and then the other over the fence for the older boys to catch. 

Carlos easily catches the first paintcan and then steps back for Clay to catch the second. But he jumps in surprise when Clay suddenly bellows. Looking over, Carlos sees the older teen trying to wipe purple paint off of the side of his face. 

Jensen has already squeezed back out of the fence and is giggling like a little boy. Clay growls playfully, “You think that’s funny? I’m gonna get you…”

Carlos has to laugh himself when the boy simply giggles harder like he’s being tickled and tries to hide behind Carlos’s back. But Clay doesn’t pursue as he still tries to rub his face with his tshirt. 

“Dude, you know this paint doesn’t just rub off,” Clay complains as they make their way back out of the alley. 

Carlos and Jensen follow behind still giggling. They’re halfway back to the campsite when they meet Pooch. Immediately, Carlos’s heart is in his throat and the other teen hasn’t even had time to get a word out. But Carlos knows what’s coming. 

“A shipment just got here,” Pooch says in a hurry. “You got the rest of the stuff?” 

Clay holds out the can as proof that they’ve accomplished what they set out to do and then he turns the question back to Pooch. “Pick up what I said?” he asks. 

Pooch smiles then, a smile of accomplishment and then he says, “Come on.” He turns without waiting for their reply and heads back to camp. 

Carlos follows closely, but when they get there Pooch gestures towards what looks to be a car battery. Clay puts down the two paint cans, adding them to a pile of coiled rope and plastic bottles of something and what looks like a blowtorch. 

“The Pooch borrowed these from the junk yard but they both still work,” Pooch says. “Roque is still watching, says he’ll be back towards nightfall.”

They start in on the food that they brought back, but Carlos feels like he has a rock in his stomach. He can’t eat no matter how hungry he is or how many looks he gets from the others. But the boy shoots him concerned looks until he stops eating too. 

It seems an eternity until Roque comes back and they all get quiet in anticipation. It’s obvious to them all that the situation has just gotten very serious. Carlos was excited at first, to be finally doing something, to have other people believe him and work with him. But now that the time has come, the excitement of having a purpose has dwindled leaving only anxiety behind. Still Carlos’s jaw is set. He has to do this, even if the others decide it’s too dangerous. 

Clay clears his throat and shifts, but before the teen can start talking Carlos has to make one demand. 

“Nino stays here,” Carlos says, firmly. 

Wide betrayed blue eyes turn on Carlos but he keeps his gaze on Clay, unwilling to let the boy get hurt by being involved in this. Clay sighs, his shoulders slumping like he doesn’t like the answer he’s going to give. 

“Jensen comes,” Clay says. 

The words have barely left his mouth when they’re all seemingly talking at once, Carlos protesting and Jensen crowing and the other two teens voicing their opinions  
as well. 

“We need him,” Clay speaks over the racket. “We need him because he’s the smallest.”

Jensen preens, puffed up like a peacock, but he refuses to look at Carlos as they all settle back down. Carlos doesn’t even consider objecting until Clay has already started again with the plan. Carlos feels respect for Clay like he did for his Dad, and it’s easy to obey him, easy to believe that he knows what’s best when the older teen is logically outlining a plan to help Carlos. And maybe, maybe Carlos wants revenge more than he wants the boy safe. 

Clay’s plan sounds great, sounds simple and plausible and the relief in Carlos is so palpable that he forgets about Jensen’s anger at him and Jensen’s part in the plan. But it’s only for a moment. No matter how great the plan is, there’s no forgetting that the whole thing is incredibly dangerous. They’re just a couple of teenagers, armed with paint cans and baby oil, and one single handgun. 

The others have moved to their beds, the older teens still whispering amongst themselves, but Carlos stays where he is, turning the gun over in his hands. His Dad taught him how to shoot, not for protection but for hunting and getting rid of vermin that would ravage the garden in the back of their house. He has no idea where the older teens got this gun, but he’s been given the honor and responsibility of shooting the man with the snake-skinned boots. 

He’s still sitting there staring at the gun when something pokes his leg. He looks up to see Jensen is pushing a candy bar into his lap. A weak smile turns up the edges of Carlos’s lips as he takes the gift. He knows that this is the boy’s way of trying to make him feel better, giving whatever he has instead of using words or hugs. 

“I know you don’t think I can help, but…” the boy says, ducking his head in embarrassment. 

“No!” Carlos objects immediately. Perhaps too violently as the boy flinches back as if he’s been hit again. “No, you can help, I just…I just didn’t want you in danger. If we get caught or the plan fails…mio dios.”

The boy actually smiles, one side of his lips quirking up. “Clay’s plan is good. We’re gonna get the guy. Don’t worry.”

Carlos doesn’t miss the Jensen’s disregard for the concern over the boy’s own safety. He can’t explain his fear to a child whose only hope is Clay and the others. And besides, it’s all his fault. He brought this danger to them who were just trying to survive the best they could. 

Slowly, Carlos moves over to the blankets that make up his bed. “Ven, nino. Can you read to me some more?”

There’s little to no chance of sleeping tonight, but the boy’s voice lulls him into not thinking until Jensen finally sleeps, the book falling from his lax fingers. Carlos reaches over to get the book and flashlight, but he doesn’t continue reading the story. His mind is already too full.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

There’s not a lot of talking the next morning, not a lot of eating either though they do have food. Carlos is too wrapped up in thinking about his own parts of the plan, thinking about the gun he carries to worry about the other teens. Clay goes over each part of the plan almost desperately as they gather up their random pieces of equipment, desperate to make each of them listen and remember. But Carlos does notice when Clay reaches for the glasses on the boy’s face, exasperatedly cleaning them with a tshirt. 

Then they head off to the warehouses. Clay’s hand lingering on the boy’s bony shoulder for just a moment before the white teen is taking the lead. 

Pooch is the one to set off the alarm and be their lookout. There are four guards inside and the absolute last thing that they need is reinforcements coming in without warning.

Pooch picks the lock easily on the door easily. The rest of them are hiding on the second landing of the fire escape watching the teen at the door. Pooch nods to them and then pushes open the door, flinching at the immediate screeching noise of the alarm. He hesitates only a second before taking off at a run, hiding behind a van across the street. 

Inside the building, they can hear the guards running for the front door. Jensen is smiling in excitement as Clay gives him a boost, lifting the boy so he can scramble in a tiny ventilation shaft. As soon as the boy’s feet are out of sight, Carlos’s anxiety ratchets up even more. He’s practically vibrating with fear at being unable to see what’s happening. 

The alarm has stopped wailing when the second floor window opens from the inside. But Carlos doesn’t feel any better as they crawl inside and scurry along the corridor. There are offices along one side, but the other side drops off with only a railing. Now he can see down to the first floor, see the drug runner’s goons huddled around the door but seeing doesn’t make him feel any better. Even with the alarm off, his heart is beating too loudly in his ears to hear anything else as they file silently into one of the offices and bedrooms that’s upstairs. 

They wait there in the room, noisily breathing in the enclosed space until they hear the faint sounds of the front door being closed and the alarm announcing it’s armed again. Clay is crouching closest to the door and he leans into the slim opening, watching for the guards to return to their regular posts. It feels like forever, a forever where any second Carlos believes that they will be caught, until finally Clay gives the signal to move again. 

Moving minutely aside, Clay lets Jensen crawl out of the door. The boy is all by himself out in the warehouse and Carlos strains his neck to watch. Crawling to the top of the stairs, the boy disappears, climbing down the side instead of going down the steps to try to be quieter. 

It feels all wrong to just be watching the boy go out there. They all agreed that it should be Jensen as he is the smallest and least likely to be shot on sight, but Carlos is starting to regret this whole thing. It seems absolutely impossible that this plan will work. He practically has a heart attack when he feels Roque push his back to get him moving. 

They’ve timed how long before the guards change position at least a dozen times. And they all need to be in position before then. Carlos keeps his body low as he moves toward the stairs, Jensen nowhere in sight. Roque is just behind him and when they reach the top of the stairs, Roque practically turns Jensen bodily to face each other. Now it’s Carlos’s turn to be boosted up and Roque lifts so that Carlos can grab onto the metal beams that run across the ceiling in this exposed section. 

Once he’s in position balanced easily on the beam, he ties first one of the lengths of rope to the beam above the stairwell and then the second. After both ropes are secure, Carlos has to lie down on the beam to reach down to Roque for the first paintcan filled with focks. Hurriedly, he ties the paintcan to the first rope and then carefully sets it down on the beam before reaching toward Roque for the second. 

As soon as the second one is in Carlos’s hand, Roque darts back into the room where they had been hiding. Carlos knows from his observations that the two rooms have a connecting door to the office room beside it. Roque is inside the office and Clay is waiting in the other room and the boy is somewhere downstairs. 

Carlos carefully ties the second paintcan and then quickly ensconces himself in the shade of the metal holding the beam to the ceiling. It seems only a moment later that he can hear the footsteps of the goons walking across the concrete floor of the warehouse below. 

Closing his eyes, Carlos’s lips form the words of the Hail Mary, and he forces his breathing to slow. It will be a wait until snake skin boots comes back he knows. But Carlos can’t help worrying that it’s himself and the boy that are the most exposed for the longest period of time. He knows why, knows that the older teens couldn’t hide on this beam, but he’ll be exposed and alone when the time comes for him to act. 

The edges of Carlos’s lips turn up at as he imagines how crazy the waiting must be for Jensen. The boy always needs to fidget, to talk, to run around or read or something. Thinking about it momentarily distracts Carlos from his fear when he catches sight of the tow-headed boy moving swiftly on the floor before. 

His heart jumps at the realization and he sits up more to ready himself. He jumps when the alarm starts wailing again and tries to see the front door, even though he knows who it is. He catches sight of just the snake-skin boots coming inside. The alarm is quickly silenced but it does nothing to calm Carlos’s rising nerves.  
Beyond the sound of his frantically beating heart, Carlos can hear the man making conversation with the goon at the door, the harsh rap of the snakeskin boots on the floor. 

He knows that it will start any second now, that they’ll see what Jensen’s done, see Jensen. Can he pull it off? Will the goons react as Clay planned? Will Carlos’s aim be true?

But it’s too late for doubts as he can hear the steps going over to the cartons of drugs, seeing…

“Que es esto?! Pendejos! Imbeciles, venir aqui ahora!” the voice of the man with the snakeskin boots rings out, echoing in the warehouse space. 

The guards seem stunned into silence for a moment and then with a final yell, “Ahora!”, four pairs of shoes are running towards the drug shipment on the wooden slats. 

From his hiding place, Carlos can now see the men all looking at the plastic wrapped packages of heroine. Snakeskin boots is still yelling at them, but Carlos’s attention is more on the tiny blonde boy taking the opportunity of the men’s inattention to come out of hiding as well. 

Carlos watches as the boy pours bottles of baby oil on the steps as he walks up them. And then the inevitable happens, one of the stairs squeaks loudly. 

It’s loud enough that every one of the men’s heads turn immediately toward the stairs, all of their attention focused on the little blonde boy whose shoulders are holding up this entire plan right now. 

“Usted, detener!” Snakeskin boots yells out but he throws his arms wide, stopping his goons from immediately running at the boy. 

The next time that Snakeskin boots speaks, it’s in English. “Don’t worry. Come down here,” he says, his tone deceptively mild. 

Jensen doesn’t answer, instead sprinting up the rest of the stairs. Like predators, the guards chase immediately after running prey. Snakeskin boots doesn’t stop  
them this time, simply following behind yelling, “Quiero preguntarie!” 

Displaying amazing courage, Jensen stays at the top of the stairs watching the men thundering towards him without flinching. When the guard hits the first stair though, his foot immediately slips, and the guard goes down face first on the metal stairs, head hitting the stair with a resounding thunk. There’s silence as the guard’s unconscious body slides down a bit. 

In the end, it just serves to infuriate them as Snakeskin boots growls, “Ir a buscarlo.” 

Suddenly all the goons are trying to scramble up the stairs at the same time, pulling on the metal handrails as their feet slip on the stairs. 

Now Jensen smiles. Carlos can see the humor of the men slipping and sliding, but he can’t focus on it. He’s too focused on trying to keep his hands from shaking, trying to make his anxious fingers wait. It happens in an instant, one of the guards manages to pull himself up on the step that Carlos has been waiting for. Carlos stops breathing as he carefully aims the first paintcan and swings it down. 

It’s comical the way that it hits the man completely unaware as the guards are only staring at the little white boy. With a conk, the man goes down, unconscious as he falls down the stairs, and for a moment, all of the guards look around in confusion. They have no idea what happened or where it came from. 

Carlos takes advantage of the moment of confusion to swing down the second paintcan. This time it only nicks another guard in the shoulder, but now he doesn’t have the time to wait. Soon, they’ll figure out where he’s hiding but he’s already scurrying along the beam to the wall as the men begin to look up. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise when he hears the first gunshot but it makes Carlos feel like he’s had a heart attack and he practically falls off. It doesn’t hit him though, isn’t anywhere near him, because Carlos is already gone, already hidden and the men are shooting above the stairs where he was. 

Only once he’s safe and the guards are concentrating on making it up the stairs again, does Carlos remember to look around for Jensen. He feels the clench of guilt at his heart as he looks back because he never saw whether the boy made it in the office door with Clay. 

He’s staring at the door when suddenly a shot hits the door and he can’t stop from gasping aloud. The man in the snakeskin boots yells for the shooting to stop immediately, but words can’t take back the bullet hole in the door. He knows that Clay is also in that room, knows that the plan was not to stand in front of the door for obvious reasons, but not being able to see inside the room for himself is driving Carlos crazy. 

He has to trust that Clay knows what to do. If he runs off on his own, changing the plan, he’s likely to get the rest of them killed. He has to actually trust the others.  
Focusing again on the guards, he sees that one guard has reached the second floor and is putting away his gun. They’re already one man down and the others are still literally pulling themselves up by their arms. Snakeskin boots waits at the bottom. 

When a second guard reaches the top, they both draw their guns and look back down the stairs for confirmation. Only then does a guard grab onto the door handle. 

The scream of pain is sharp and high. Even the guards flinch in surprise as the man drops his gun in favor of cradling his hand to his chest, his screams quieting.  
Confused, it takes a long moment before the other guard even tries to figure out what’s happened, peering at the other guard’s hand. 

Carlos doesn’t need to see to know that the guard’s hand must be badly burned. Clay is on the other side of the door and he’s been holding a blow torch to the metal door handle since Jensen ran in. Carlos lets a little relief relax his tense shoulders at knowing that at least one thing he can’t see has gone according to plan. 

“La otra puerta!” Snakeskin boots yells from the bottom of the stairs. 

The order has the last uninjured guard moving toward the other door immediately, leaving behind the other man still clutching his hand. Still, there’s a long pause as the guard tries to cover the hand not holding his gun with the sleeve of his tshirt. 

With a last look towards the man with the snakeskin boots now making his way up the stairs, the last guard throws open the door and rushes in quickly. But he’s only taken one step when there’s another surprise, a dumbbell falls from the doorframe onto the man’s head. 

It’s like déjà vu when another guard crumples to the floor. The guard with the burned hand doesn’t even move forward when suddenly the door slams shut, the unconscious man still inside. It has the air of a poltergeist, Carlos thinks, a man suddenly disappearing behind a closed door. Carlos knows that Roque is in that room, but he didn’t even catch a glimpse of the teen. 

Snakeskin boots is screaming from where he is halfway up the stairs, angry now instead of just confused. Dutifully, the last guard picks up his gun and waits for his boss to finish the climb. The man with the snakeskin boots is gritting his jaw when he reaches the top and immediately takes out his own gun. He angrily gestures with the gun for the guard to open the office door again. 

The door is unsurprisingly locked, but it only takes one well-placed kick for the guard to kick the door in. Carlos can see the unconscious body of the guard still on the floor, but nothing else amiss. Still the last guard is cautious when entering, looking up at the ceiling and then all around the room while stepping inside. 

Snakeskin boots waits outside, but this time nothing happens. The guard steps further into the room over the unconscious body of the other guard and still nothing. 

Finally Snakeskin boots moves into the room to look around himself. Now Carlos can see nothing of what goes on in the rooms. He touches the gun at his waistband. It will be soon, but the waiting, the not knowing is worse than the doing. 

The plan is for Roque to hide under the metal-framed bed. It’s an obvious, exposed hiding place, but he doesn’t need to be hidden for long. Because Roque isn’t alone under the bed, he has Pooch’s car battery there too, hooked up to the bedframe. The guard is sure to get quite a shock when he tries looking under the bed. And then Snakeskin boots will be all alone. 

It’s the time for Carlos to move as Clay carefully opens the office door. There are no words as they pass each other as quietly as possible. Carlos goes in to his revenge and Clay goes out to bind the unconscious goons with rope, buying them a little more time. 

Carlo is alone in the room and he barely spares a thought to wonder where Jensen is. He focuses on hearing the sound of the men in the room next door over the sound of his furiously beating heart. All the goon has to do is touch the metal…

There’s a sudden choked cry and then the sound of one last body hitting the ground. Then silence. 

Carlos waits, trying not to let his fear overwhelm him. He takes the gun out of the makeshift holder that the guys made for him. He doesn’t want to think about what he’s about to do. But now that he’s come this far, he can’t turn back, he can’t…it would mean their deaths. 

The connecting door bursts open with a bang, shocking Carlos who doesn’t even have the gun raised yet. The man is suddenly in the room with him and it feels like his blood has turned to ice. His eyes drop down to see the boots that the man wears, the same boots that the man was wearing when it was Carlos’s father lying dead on the floor. 

Carlos knows that he’s hesitating, that he’s lost the advantage of surprise. His eyes flick up as the man lurches forward with a menacing growl, the gun at his side as if Carlos isn’t even a threat. 

And then Carlos is flinching away as something falls through the ceiling. 

“Cougar!” 

Carlos opens his eyes to the little boy standing up from where he crashed to the floor. But Snakeskin boots recovers first, his free hand suddenly wrapping around the boy’s neck. He seems triumphant as he practically lifts the kid off the floor, shaking him by the neck in anger and all Jensen can do is kick out at him and gasp for breath…

*BANG*

Carlos barely realizes that he’s pulled the trigger until he sees the man jerk back. It takes another seemingly endless minute for the first red stain of blood to appear on the man’s white shirt. Carlos fires again before it spreads, and again, and again, and again.

The man staggers back, dropping Jensen and then slumping to the ground, but it’s still happening far too slowly. The man lifts his arm and Carlos fires again just in case the man was trying to lift the gun. 

Finally the man is still. 

“Cougar,” a small voice rasps. 

Carlos looks down, shocked to see Jensen now kneeling beside him. He feels like he can’t hear anything, not even his own heart, and he’s boneless as he slumps to the ground himself. Jensen’s thin arms wrap around him, holding on tightly though Carlos isn’t fighting. 

He should be ashamed, ashamed that a boy who was just choked is having to comfort him, but he’s not sure what he feels. He should feel guilty for killing a man, he knows. He should feel relieved to have avenged his father, to have prevented another death at this man’s hand. 

But he’s not sure that he feels anything other than grief for his father. He just wants to see his Dad, to know that he did the right thing. 

He’s crying before he knows it and he chokes out, “Echo de menos mi papa.”

Clay pushes the door then and both younger boys look up at him. Clay’s face seems to dissolve into relief and then sympathy. 

“Come on, we have to go,” Clay says quietly. “These guys won’t call the cops, but I don’t want them to know our faces anymore than they already do.”

Carlos nods stupidly and chokes back his tears as he tries to stand. Clay steps around the man’s body and the growing pool of blood to give him a hand up. 

“Are you hurt?” Clay asks. 

Carlos’s eyes water more at the question and he tries to point at Jensen. 

“It’s no…” Jensen wrecked voice trails off as he coughs pathetically. 

“Are those finger marks?” Clay asks almost incredulously as he tips the boy’s face up. Clay shakes his head in dismay, but has to hurry them out the door. 

The alarm is back on, but Jensen manages to somehow make it not sound without the code. Carlos has no idea and he’s suddenly feeling too tired to really to even question it. They meet Pooch aside and head back to their makeshift campsite. They’re all subdued and barely talking, not even Pooch who surely must have questions. It’s early in the evening and none of them had managed to eat much earlier. 

“Hey, you two take Jensen to find some food. If it’s possible, get him some ice, too,” Clay says casually. 

The boy looks unhappy to leave, but he dutifully climbs on Pooch’s back to be carried with the other teens. It’s all too clear that Clay wants Carlos alone. And Carlos doesn’t know quite how to feel about that. He’s a killer now. Maybe Clay doesn’t want him around the boy now. 

When they’re gone though, it’s Clay who looks uncomfortable. He keeps twitching his right hand as if he wants to reach out or punch Carlos or something and it takes a long moment for him to get any words out. 

“You saved Jensen,” Clay starts. 

It’s not at all what Carlos was expecting to hear. The boy would never have been in danger if it wasn’t for him, would never have been involved without him. So it’s little comfort that Carlos managed to prevent the man with the snakeskin boots from squeezing out of the boy. He simply shrugs his shoulders and looks away. 

“You avenged your father, saved anyone else from being hurt like him,” Clay continues. “You can go home, to your family.”

Surprised, Carlos looks up at Clay. He doesn’t remember ever mentioning his family. But Clay simply stares back at him coolly, giving nothing away. 

Finally, Clay’s expression softens. “They must miss you, they must…”

“No,” Carlos says, more harshly than he intends. “I…I can’t…can’t face them yet.”

Clay looks questioning for a moment, but then he drops his eyes and nods. They sit in silence for a few moments until they hear the others coming back. 

Roque hands out some food in various Styrofoam containers. “Went dumpster diving. We’ve got a little of everything.”

It’s strange that Jensen isn’t talking. Pooch lets the boy down off of his back and Jensen simply slumps down on to his blankets next to Carlos. The boy’s got a can of Coke, holding it to his throat and seems to have no interest in the food despite the small breakfast that morning. 

Clay takes a container, but sets it down on his blankets, instead going over to kneel beside the boy. Carefully, he takes the can from Jensen’s hand and looks down at the bruised flesh beneath. 

“You don’t want to eat?” Clay asks. 

Jensen just shakes his head, for once looking like a sick little boy. 

Clay looks sad and sympathetic, before giving the can back. “Well, try to at least drink the can of Coke before it gets too warm.”

Carlos frowns in guilt and tries to avert his eyes so that he doesn’t see Clay ruffling the boy’s hair as he moves away. He’s happily distracted when Pooch hands him one container of food despite not feeling like eating. He takes a bite just to have something to do, but then he digs into it with gusto, rediscovering his hunger. Half his food is gone when he thinks again about how unnerving the silence is. It’s never silent with Jensen around and for him to be silent now seems like an accusation. 

Now feeling guilty for eating when the boy can’t, Carlos reaches a forced casual hand down to pets the blonde hair near his knee. Jensen stills his fidgeting at the touch, turning his face to give Carlos more room. Carlos quirks up one side of his lips in a half-smile when he looks down to see Jensen being still for the affection. 

It makes Carlos feel like he’s doing something to make things better, to mend the rift that he’s created. Having grown up with sisters in an affectionate close-knit family, it makes Carlos think of his sisters again. Jensen may be younger but he’s helped Carlos much more than Carlos has helped the boy.

Settling in for a quiet evening, Carlos is surprised when the conversation turns to the day’s events. 

“Man, my shoulders are sore,” Roque starts. “That guy was huge,” he says and then looks around like he’s just realizing that perhaps the topic is off limits. 

“The Pooch could’ve moved the guy faster,” Pooch brags, ragging on his friend. 

But Clay takes over then. “I know. I think I burnt my thumb holding the blow torch to the handle that long,” he says with a chuff of a laugh. 

When Carlos speaks up, it gets all their attention. “But you should have seen their confused faces,” he says. 

Jensen makes a choked sound, and he’s smiling when Carlos looks down. 

“Oh my God, what I wouldn’t have given to see that!” Pooch howls with laughter. “They must’ve thought it was ghosts!”

“Or aliens,” Carlos adds with a grudging smile. “They had no idea what was going on.”

It feels like it’s the start of something. It feels like they’re a team.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The next morning, Carlos wakes up and he feels…better. He feels relieved not to have the weight of revenge on him. He knows that he should feel horrible about leaving his family, but as he watches the other boys’ antics, he feels at home. 

Pooch is yelling at Roque, something about whose turn it is, though Roque doesn’t seem to be arguing just refusing. Jensen is still warm and sleepy next to him, though the pale throat is now decorated in horrific blacks and purples. 

Clay is suddenly squatting next to them, large hand hovering over Jensen’s mangled throat. 

With a grimace, Clay asks, “You ok, sport?”

“He’s fine,” Roque breaks in. “He’s tougher than he looks.”

Jensen sticks his tongue out in lieu of a reply, but he can’t quite stop the smile. 

“Well, that’s good,” Pooch adds with exaggerated relief. “Because he looks as tough as a toothpick.”

Everyone chuckles a little and Carlos sees Clay resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. And suddenly, the teen’s expression turns anxious. He doesn’t move away, instead looking over at Roque before he opens his mouth again. 

“Are you feeling ok enough for us to go to the recruiter today?” Clay asks the boy. 

Jensen nods eagerly, too eagerly Carlos thinks. But Clay looks back at Pooch and Roque again. Carlos is very confused by what’s happening. This isn’t how they normally act. 

With a last pat to Jensen’s shoulder, Clay stands then. “Ok, Roque and I will go over to the office then. Pooch will stay with you two.”

Still no one explains anything. Roque is pulling out clothes from his backpack and Carlos realizes that they look new and clean and nothing like the clothes that all of them are currently wearing. Roque hands some clothes to Clay but Pooch is left out. Instead Pooch grabs the leftover bread from last night and passes it around for  
breakfast. 

“What’s going on?” Carlos asks in a small voice, not wanting to intrude still.

Clay is pulling out a prepaid cell phone out of his backpack when he stops moving at Carlos’s question. It takes a moment for Clay to actually turn to answer him though. 

“Roque and I are going to the recruiter’s, we’re going to enlist in the military,” Clay says, like it’s that simple. 

Carlos doesn’t understand. How can they enlist? Who will take care of the boy? His first instinct is to ask Jensen but the boy can’t speak. 

But it’s Pooch who questions the oldest teen. “You sure you two are ready for the test?” he asks. 

Clay smiles then. “I want to get it over with. I think Jensen’s taught us all he can,” he says with a little laugh. “Hopefully out paperwork holds up.”

The last is said anxiously, but Clay laughs again as if to cover up his concerns. Jensen nods vigorously in reassurance as Clay and Roque head out of the park with a last wish for good luck from Pooch. 

Left behind, Pooch starts handing out the leftover bread from last night as a makeshift breakfast. But the silence seems to finally get to Pooch now too, and he starts to talk, to explain more about what’s going on. 

“Jensen helped them,” Pooch starts, but now that Clay is gone it seems like Jensen isn’t as proud of that achievement. “Jensen’s a whiz at the computer.”

Pooch explains how Jensen hacked into the computer systems to get what the two teens needed to enlist, birth certificates, faked records. Carlos isn’t at all sure how the boy knows how to do all that, but Pooch tells him how easy it was to steal a laptop from a careless student and then steal wifi outside an apartment building. 

Even after Jensen’s help though, the teens will still have to take some kind of test. They borrowed books from the library and Jensen turned out to be good at math too. It’s funny to think of a little boy showing Roque how to solve a problem. 

But still Pooch doesn’t say what Carlos most wants to know. He doesn’t say what will happen to the three of them. 

Jensen tries to eat a little bread, but he gives up quickly and crawls back into his blankets. His little arms reach out to grab his book, pulling it practically into the blankets with him. Carlos doesn’t know how to help a little boy who feels abandoned. And he doesn’t want to talk about his own recent loss. 

“You want me to get you another Coke?” Pooch asks. But he doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s asking, “You two’ll be alright alone for a while?”

Carlos nods resolutely. He doesn’t say that he’ll be left alone with the boy a lot more frequently if the boys really leave them.

When Pooch is gone, Carlos hesitantly turns to the boy. “Will you let me read aloud?”

Seeming sullen, Jensen hands over the book quickly enough. The day seems to pass slowly without the frantic energy from before. Jensen sleeps some and then reads silently while Carlos sits with Pooch, listening as the older teen chats some while he tinkers with some engine part. 

But it’s still early afternoon when the two teens come back. Suddenly the bored mood changes into excitement. Clay is smiling and Roque is looking as near to happy as Carlos has ever seen the teen. Even Jensen is up and out of his blankets, crowding the other two teens. 

Clay laughs and pulls the boy down with him onto Clay’s own blankets. “We nailed it!” Clay crows. “We’re pre-qualified for jobs and stuff, just based on the intro test.” Clay pulls Jensen into his side with an arm, happiness giving way to affection. “We’ll go tomorrow to the MEPS overnight to finish everything.”

Carlos stays on his own blankets, listening to the blow-by-blow of the interview with the recruiter. Even after the story is told, the three older teens continue to chat about it, about basic and the type of jobs they could get and the types of missions. The conversation will taper off and then Clay will remember some comment that the recruiter made and the three will start up all over again. 

After the first retelling, Jensen gets up off the blankets since Clay is no longer paying attention to him. The boy doesn’t go back to reading though. He gets his dinosaur for the first time that day, playing with it in the middle of their camp. 

It’s not an unusual sight, but the bruises still stand out starkly on the pale throat and the blue eyes are almost fever bright behind his smudged glasses. The boy gets more and more energetic, jumping around and practically throwing the toy, trying to get and hold Clay’s attention. Though, it was Jensen who made it possible for the older teens to enlist. 

Clay laughs at the boy’s antics every once in a while, tells him to be careful, but he’s obviously more involved in the rest of the day’s events. 

When Jensen actually whispers, “Watch me,” in a hoarse voice though, all of the teens start paying attention. 

“Should you be talking?” Pooch asks. 

“You don’t sound good,” Roque pops up. 

But both Clay and Carlos are up off of their blankets and by Jensen’s side. Clay’s got one hand on the boy’s back leading him back over to the boy’s blankets and Carlos sits down beside him. 

“Just take it easy a little longer, tough guy. Did you try eating anything today?” Clay asks. 

“A little,” the boy croaks, making Clay shakes his head in amusement. 

“I know, ok. I told you not to talk and then asked you a question. Maybe you should just rest a little longer. I can read you…one of these,” Clay says, searching through the books in the boy’s backpack. 

Carlos settles down on his own blankets, determined to force the boy to rest and be quiet. He can’t replace Clay, but he’ll keep Jensen distracted for as long as he can. 

Clay’s voice brings Carlos out of his thoughts. “Do you read these?” the teen asks. “These don’t seem very appropriate.”

Carlos starts laughing, loud, too loud but he just can’t stop.  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The next morning, Clay and Roque have to leave so early in the morning that it’s still dark. Jensen can’t go back to sleep, but he does manage to eat some more food. He spends the two days that the teens are away trying to be as happy and energetic as possible. He shows Carlos some of the best places for dumpster diving, where he finds toys and books that have been thrown out. His voice is a little stronger, but soon enough Carlos is shushing him from wearing it out already. They see some other homeless people, but the boy stays away from all of the adults and all of the children stay away from him. 

But it all comes to a head when the two oldest teens return the next morning. The boy’s fake smile seems to shatter into a million shards when Clay says that they’ll be shipping off to basic the next day. 

The boy’s eyes fill with tears and it’s as devastating to watch as the last time that Carlos saw it. But unlike the last time, Carlos immediately moves to comfort Jensen, loosely wrapping his arms around the smaller kid. But Jensen shrugs him off. It’s clear at least to Carlos that the only one who can soothe Jensen now is Clay. 

And fortunately Clay seems to realize this. Focused entirely on the boy, he kneels down to be on the younger child’s height. Jensen moves closer to him, but then stops, some invisible barrier keeping him from seeking the comfort that he wants. But this time, Clay pulls the boy into a hug, a real hug, Clay’s thicker arms engulfing the skinny boy within.

It’s the first time that Carlos has seen the two hug. It’s like Clay had been keeping that last bit of distance so as not to seem like a father figure, perhaps hoping that Jensen wouldn’t get too attached, but if that was the case then obviously it didn’t work. The two cling to one another and even Clay’s eyes are watering as he gently rubs the boy’s back. 

Carlos eyes start to water himself as he’s reminded of his own father. He tries to keep it to himself, but it’s Pooch that notices and then he’s pulling Carlos and Clay and even Roque into a pile with Jensen. They all fall onto their butts on the floor, laughing a bit too high for a second. 

Still Clay keeps ahold of Jensen. “This isn’t the end. It doesn’t mean that we won’t be back.”

Jensen is looking down, wiping his face with the back of a hand and Clay jostles him a little until the blue eyes are visible. “You made those emails for us so we can talk. And we’ll put money in that account you made as well. And then we’ll have leave and stuff.”

Jensen nods but tears still leak from his eyes and he seems wholly unbelieving of Clay’s words. But he seems happier when Clay pulls him into a hug again. 

“Even if Carlos goes back to his family, we’re going to find a way to take care of you. Ok, Jensen?” Clay continues. “Even if you have to make up adoption papers or something. Ok?”

Clay is smiling and he tickles Jensen a little until Jensen laughs, but there’s something in the boy’s eyes, something calculating and suspicious. The look is quickly gone as Jensen leans in to wipe his face on Clay’s tshirt. The oldest teen laughs, a low rumble, but Jensen’s hands are still clenched in his tshirt, not letting Clay move away. 

But the boy seems to have put himself back together, that fake happiness back on his face. For the rest of the night, the five of them stay close, talking about the future. Roque shows them the pamphlets and talks about money they can send and Clay is still trying to convince Jensen on how they’ll keep in touch. Pooch promises that he’ll take care of the two younger kids. 

Jensen for once is silent. So is Carlos but that’s not unusual. He does take Jensen’s hand though, giving what comfort he can. Words will never be enough anyway, Carlos knows that. And when they all fall asleep, they’re still together, Jensen still holding onto Clay’s shirt with Roque on his other side. 

The goodbye in the morning though, is quick and perfunctory. Jensen doesn’t cry again, and Clay and Roque have to hurry to leave. As soon as they’re gone though,  
Jensen is lying back down in the blankets, pretending to go back to sleep until the sun is higher. 

Pooch has a job most of the day fixing a car for cash that’ll keep them fed. Jensen’s bruises are fading into yellows that his voice is still hoarse after a few minutes.  
After lunch, the boy practically drags Carlos to play Frisbee again. It almost seems like Jensen is back to his old self for a while, laughing as he misses another toss.  
Maybe Carlos shouldn’t have been surprised when the next morning, they’re woken up by unfamiliar stern voices. Immediately frightened, Carlos holds onto Jensen, not letting the boy be taken away by one blonde woman when he realizes who they are. Child Protective Services is what they say, and police officers. 

Genuinely surprised at the appearance of authorities after everything that they’ve been through, Carlos looks over to see Pooch cooperating with them, acknowledging that there is no other choice. Jensen is pulled from Carlos’s grip. Only then does Carlos realize that there is another office behind him, pulling him away as well. In shock, Carlos allows himself to be put in the back of the police car with Jensen, the female officer between them. Pooch is in a different car altogether. 

Carlos tries to keep his eyes open for an opportunity to escape. They outsmarted an illegal drug running ring. But then they had a plan, they had time, and they had Clay and Roque. Carlos doesn’t see an opportunity that wouldn’t leave the other two behind. Besides Pooch is the oldest, he’ll be in the most trouble. He could be tried as an adult for murder. 

He knew that they couldn’t just get away with it. But it wasn’t Pooch’s fault, it’s his. He’s the guilty one. He murdered someone. He killed a man and now he is going to be in prison for life because of it. 

He’s practically hyperventilating when he gets to the police station, but they never ask about the man with the snakeskin boots or the drugs or anything. Instead, there’s a woman officer now asking him in Spanish about where his family is, what his last name is, where he’s from. It finally occurs to him that they’re being sent home. It wasn’t about the murder at all. They’ve been picked up by Child Protection just to be sent home. 

Confused, Carlos swivels his head around, ignoring the woman asking him questions about where he’s been living. He just barely catches sight of Jensen in another windowed room. He never even asked where the boy’s family is or why the boy is living on the streets. He never considered whether the boy had somewhere else to live. What will they do with the boy now?

Eventually the questions stop and the woman exits the room, leaving Carlos alone with a silent officer. Carlos is still mostly trying to keep track of his friends out of the windows in the room, but shortly the female officer is back in the room. This time she holds out a picture of him, a paper that says “Missing Child”. Carlos can’t help bowing his head in guilt. This time when she asks him if the picture is of him, he responds with a sullen yes. 

With a smile, the woman leaves him again, presumably to call his mama. But Carlos is pulled out of his thoughts of home and family when a short black woman rushes suddenly into the station. She’s loud and crying and then Carlos sees that Pooch is rushing to meet her. It seems a happy reunion though Carlos has a hard time making out any words. The small woman is crushing the larger teen. 

Carlos never wondered why Pooch was on the streets either. He never even questioned Pooch’s real name. Still, as he watches them start to exit still wrapped up together, he hopes that his own homecoming will be similar. 

With Pooch gone, that only leaves Jensen, but when Carlos looks over at the towheaded boy again, there is now another man in the room. It’s a tall man with a short, severe haircut and expression that is leaning down to Jensen, taking the boy’s chin in a firm grip. Carlos thinks that the man is another police officer at first until he realizes how similar the man looks to Jensen. But if the man is Jensen’s father, it doesn’t appear to be a happy reunion. Of course, who would be happy with a child of that age who ran away?

The man leads Jensen out of the station with a grip on the boy’s forearm. That leaves just Carlos when the woman comes back in. He’s led to another squad car for the journey back home. 

He’s happy and scared and guilty and relieved and a million other emotions all tied up together. They all have emails that Jensen set up for them. Carlos’s family doesn’t have a computer but there is an internet café that his sisters like to frequent. Roque and Clay will have access after basic, though, Carlos thinks that Pooch will get a message to them about what has happened quicker than that. He wonders if Jensen will be punished and forbidden from using the computer considering how much trouble the boy can do on the machine. 

Carlos wonders if he’ll ever see them again. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ TEN YEARS LATER *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Clay takes the folder with his team’s new tech silently. They’ve had quite a problem finding a fifth member that fits into their group. 

Clay has heard the rumors around the base. They call his team The Losers. They’re a team of individuals who have all had problems with other teams, but somehow they work together. Somehow they always come out on top. 

Promoted to Major only a year ago, Clay has carefully assembled his team. Roque mostly came up through the Army with him, even getting their bachelors together. Roque has always had a problem getting along with others besides Clay, though.

Pooch joined the Army two years after them and Clay tried to keep track of him through the years. Pooch has several write-ups for insubordination and not following orders in the field. Mostly Pooch doesn’t trust his commander as much as he trusts himself to keep his team alive. Cougar…Cougar joined the Army after Clay had stopped looking through the new recruits for a familiar face. Trained as a sniper, Cougar had a great career with no write-ups until his last unit was killed in action. It was only joining up with his old friends saved him from a dishonorable discharge. 

At times like this, Clay can’t help but think of the one missing member, Jensen. The kid would have been a great tech. Clay knew from the first moment that Jensen had planned it, probably called CPS himself. Maybe it was for the best. It reunited Pooch and Cougar with families that loved and cared for them. But Clay also vividly remembered Jensen shrieking he would never go back to his father. 

Clay tried to keep an eye out for news. It wasn’t a surprise when he figured out that Jensen had run away again, but this time the kid actually erased his own missing person report. Clay went back to their old hideouts as soon as he could, but he never saw a hint of the kid there. Jensen was barely nine at the time, still a baby who surely couldn’t survive on the streets by himself. It was only dumb luck that it was someone like Clay who found Jensen the first time and no one gets that lucky twice. The others didn’t even find out until they joined Clay’s team. 

With a sad smile, Clay opens the file as he gets back to his unit’s house. Jensen, Jacob, it says like the universe’s joke is on him today. The file is heavy with papers and write-ups like most of the files that come Clay’s way. 

He looks up at the sound of the door and there’s this tall man, young with his head still shaved and only a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw, with regulation black plastic glasses on…It takes Clay a long moment to realize that it is Jensen, that this tall young man in front of him looks just like the little kid that he was just thinking of. 

“You got tall,” is the first idiotic thing out of Clay’s mouth. 

Jensen looks nervous to see them, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and over his head like he’s still getting used to the cut even though he’s not a new recruit. His hand moves from his head into a stupid wave with a fake casual grin on his face. 

But it’s when Jensen takes a preemptory step back, insecurity written all over him just like that first few days after they found a little boy hiding in their room that Clay moves. Clay can’t help rushing forward with arms open for a hug. When long arms come to wrap around him, Clay can’t help laughing at the idea of Jensen being taller than him, laugh at the pure impossibility of the whole situation. 

He draws back to clap Jensen on the back, and Pooch pushes in for his own hug. Cougar waits his turn patiently, silent as the grave like he normally is. But when Cougar hugs Jensen, it’s desperate. Clay knows that Cougar took the news of Jensen’s running away again the hardest. Cougar was angry that Clay hadn’t told him immediately, believing that he should have searched for the boy. 

Roque is the only one to hang back and Clay can see hesitation in his eyes, but Clay knows that the Roque will come around just like he did the last time.  
But as Cougar continues to cling to the tech, Clay starts wondering how great an idea Jensen joining the team actually is. Every time that Clay looks at Jensen, he still sees a little kid. How are they going to be a special forces team like this?


End file.
